Shades of Darkness
by hnh
Summary: The son of the head legislator of the Mutant Registration Act turns out to be a mutant, familial crisis ensues. It's mainly a study of how humans react to mutants. Lots of original characters, but the X-Men are in there too.
1. A Man to Man Talk

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you might recognize, which at this point is hopefully nothing since Alex is mine, and the X-Men aren't in the picture...yet  
  
Author's Note: This is a reposting of my original chapter because the story has evolved from the random musings of a bored student to a story with a plot (yay!) Because of this, I have changed a few things, hence the reposting.  
  
..........................  
  
"Alexander Albright McAllister, IV, get down here now!"  
  
I knew why he was calling, so I took my time coming down. My father no doubt wanted to discuss the fact that I had been sent to the headmistress three times today for wearing sunglasses in class. In past weeks, I had been able to remove them if a teacher asked, but it was getting progressively worse, and now removing them meant being blinded by so much as a candle.  
  
By "it" I mean what could only be a mutation. My eyes were, well, disappearing. Ever since midterms, my pupils were essentially taking over- at first I thought they were just dilated, but then the iris disappeared and the white part was almost gone. My eyes were now nothing but pupil and consequently let in way more light than they ever should-hence the sunglasses. To be honest, even the protective gear didn't always cut it in a bright room or sunny day.  
  
"Alex?"  
  
I had taken a little too long. Alexander Albright McAllister, III was standing in my doorway, and I knew little good could come of it.  
  
"Alex, why is it so dark in here? For God's sake, turn on a light." He flicked on the overhead light and thankfully didn't notice how I winced at its brightness. I said nothing as he sat next to me on my bed. "You know, I'm getting a little worried about you. You're not doing track this season, you spend all of your time in your room, and I got a call from the headmistress, who tells me that you're defying both her and your teachers for a stupid fashion statement. Not only that, but I got your report card today and you're slipping in all of your classes. You used to be a straight-A student, Alex, and now you have a B in chemistry and a C+ in math. Even your orchestra grade dropped. Honestly, I'm up to my ears in work with the Mutant Registration Act and you've got to start thinking about college applications. The last thing either of us need is your current behavior."  
  
Well, it was actually more than I expected. At least he was more worried about my grades than my glasses. After a short silence while I stared at my lap, I figured it was time for a reply. "Look, Dad, I'm sorry. It's just that I've been under a lot of stress lately." I paused to let that sink in while I made up reasons for being stressed. "Classes got a lot harder this quarter, and Clarissa and I have, uh, been having some problems lately. I know you have a lot of work what with the MRA gaining support, so I'll just try harder and concentrate more so you don't have to worry."  
  
I figured that would quiet him, particularly the part that reminded him of his work. It did, and after a few more, "well, get to work and make me proud"-type-comments he left me alone. I immediately turned out my light and attempted to start my homework.  
  
.............................  
  
I must admit I didn't get very far. Every time I picked up, my mind kept wandering. I couldn't help but think about my eyes. In many ways, my mutation was as fascinating as it was frightening. I could see in the dark, which I must admit was pretty cool. At least I didn't have to worry about running into furniture as I tried to go to the bathroom at night. On the other hand, I was now afraid of the light, I was crippled without my glasses, and I looked like a freak because my eyes were an expanse of black. Not that anyone could actually see my eyes.  
  
What concerned me more was my father. He was a House Representative, and his big bill in Congress was the MRA. He was practically leading the movement to register mutants, under the argument that they might be dangerous. While the bill wasn't even close to getting out of committee, I was still worried. Even worse, it was an election year and Dad would be working to please voters in his very anti-mutant district. It disturbed me that so many of the people he was working for hated people like me. I feared that if Dad discovered what I was, I would be kicked out. If anyone else found out, God only knows what would happen.  
  
Unfortunately, God decided to share his little secret way too soon for my liking.  
  
...........  
  
Voila! Chapter One. Chapter 2 will be posted shortly I promise. 


	2. A Driving Lesson and a Hospital Bed

Chapter 2-A Driving Lesson and a Hospital Bed  
  
Disclaimer: Alex: mine. Alex's dad: mine. X-Men: Well, I asked for them for Christmas, but Santa didn't bring them, so they still belong to Marvel or Warner Brothers or someone else entirely. I would like to point out, however, that I'm still accepting birthday and graduation gifts, and it's never too soon to think about Christmas presents.  
  
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So life went on, as it usually does. I continued to take a lot of crap from pretty much everybody-teachers, students, even some friends, though they cut it out as soon as they noticed I was not amused. Since I couldn't explain why I suddenly went for the Matrix look, (Honestly, what could I say? "Hi, I'm Alex. I'm a mutant-I wear sunglasses because I look like a freak and can see in the dark. How are you?") I kept an air of I'm- wearing-them-because-I-feel-like-it-dumbass around most people.  
  
Even with the aloof manner, I was open for numerous jokes. The general favorites were the Matrix jokes, from the glasses, my vaguely Asian features, and a penchant for dark colors. It wasn't long before half of the school was calling me Neo.  
  
The worst, however, was my driving instructor. Mike Nesblatt, of Mike's driving school was probably still on the payroll of said company for the sole reason that he owned it. He was one of the most annoying people in my acquaintance, and definitely the worst teacher known to man. He called me his "little Keanu Reeves" (boy did that man have the hots for Keanu) and spent most of my driving sessions making very obscure Matrix jokes.  
  
Consequently, it was with great glee that I approached my final driving session. All I had to do was navigate DC, two major highways, and some winding two lane roads and I would have my license. I wasn't that worried because we were basically taking a long route back to my house. The only problem was the bad traffic due to heavy rain, but I had navigated these roads many times before.  
  
After a few "hey, is your girlfriend named Trinity?"-type comments from both Mike and the three other students in the back, Zach, Jacob, and Carlos fell to talking among themselves about which teacher was hottest, and Mike fortunately fell asleep to the soundtrack of Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.  
  
I breathed a sigh of relief as I finally got off the highway and onto the home stretch. Ten minutes and I would never have to listen to mediocre 80s rock again. Ten minutes and I would never have to listen to Mike's Keanu Reeves fantasies. Ten minutes and I would have my license.  
  
I rounded a corner and turned onto a flat stretch of road. The car's headlights were on, but I didn't need their help to see through the rain.  
  
Well, it was more like the road wasn't dark, but the rain blocked so much I couldn't tell what was ahead of me. All I could do was focus on the yellow line in the middle of the road.  
  
I was focusing on that line, watching it stretch off into the distance, when a Hummer turned onto the road with its brights on, and nearly blinded me-even sunglasses couldn't help. I struggled to recover my vision, and then sped up so I could get home before that happened again.  
  
I heard a lot of yelling from the back seat, and an instant later, I felt what they were yelling about.  
  
---------------------------------------  
  
"Where is my son? Doctor, what have you done with Alex?"  
  
"Mr. McAllister, calm down. We've moved him for his own good. You can go see him now."  
  
"What do you mean 'for his own good'? What's wrong with him?"  
  
He was practically yelling now; he must not know. I took his arm and steered him toward the elevator. "Sir, if you would just come with me, we can discuss this in a more private place." We got off on the third floor and headed toward the south wing: psychiatric ward and mutants. There was an awkward silence as he realized where we were headed; by the time we got to the room, he had turned a sort of ashy green color.  
  
"Mr. McAllister, I would first like to state that the boy will be fine. He's suffered a severe blow to the head, and broken several bones, but there will be no permanent damage." I paused, hoping this would calm him, but all he could do was look around the room in disbelief. I gestured for him to sit down, hoping that at least that would help, but he seemed anxious to get out of there. I continued on, both of us knowing what was coming. "While operating on him, it came to our attention that your son is a mutant. We know that he is hypersensitive to light, but we don't know if the X gene has affected anything else, so we've isolated him here. He still hasn't woken up, but he should shortly."  
  
That got him sitting down. I ploughed on, knowing that the faster we went through the usual questions, the more time I could give him to adjust with the mutant. "If you could shed some more light on this situation, it would be an enormous help. Has he told you he is a mutant?"  
  
All I got from Mr. McAllister was an aggravated grunt. I took that to be a no.  
  
"Well, have you noticed him acting strangely lately? Have any weird accidents happened with him around, such as electrical or fire-related problems, damage to property for no apparent reason, or odd natural disasters of any kind? I must warn you, sir, that some mutants can be a great danger to the people around them if they can't control themselves-"  
  
"I know perfectly well what mutants are capable of, and it's been my job to keep them from being harmful to society." There was a pause as he sorted out in his mind what to do.  
  
"You know, he was a perfectly normal boy until you brought this up, and I'd prefer that this stays between you and me. All I want you to do is keep him isolated, and I'll figure out what to do with him."  
  
He left the room as quickly as possible, leaving me with nothing but the quietly beeping monitors over his son's bed.  
  
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Brightness. Brightness and pain. I immediately moved to cover my eyes and grab for my glasses when I realized that they were covered. Layers of gauze surrounded my head, but I placed one arm over them anyway and found my glasses on a table next to me. Putting them on over the gauze, I relaxed and saw darkness.  
  
Now I was confused. I tried to glance around the room, but couldn't see anything-it was a problem I hadn't had in months. I strained my eyes to pick up even the smallest bit of light, but nothing came until-  
  
The room appeared around me, a brightly lit hospital room. I saw my IV and several monitors around my bed, and then I saw the bed across the room from mine, no wait, it was a wall, and on the other side was a bed.  
  
I admit I was pretty freaked out, but since I had spent the last 6 months seeing in the dark, I figured it was yet another gift from that damn X gene. I mentally added seeing through solid objects to my list of things to avoid discussing with my father and set about trying to actually see what was in front of me.  
  
It was a lot harder than I expected. While I quickly got the hang of seeing through the bandages, I had trouble not seeing through anything else for quite some time. On the other hand, I learned a lot about my surroundings in the time being. There was a tree by my window with an albino squirrel in it, for example, and later that day, a new patient came to the room next to mine. He spent most of his time looking scared, curled up in the fetal position and not allowing anyone to touch him.  
  
It took a few days, but I eventually figured out that if I treated my x-ray vision as though it were a normal part of my eyesight, I could focus on different objects normally hidden to the human eye. It was a constant struggle to remain in control, though. Every time I lapsed, I invariably ended up seeing some nurse's bra. Let me tell you, some of those nurses had really kinky tastes in lingerie, though to be honest, I wasn't complaining for some of those nurses. What can I say? I'm a 16-year-old straight boy.  
  
It only took a few days because in that time, I had no visitors at all. None. Zip. Nada. I did manage to have a few conversations with the nurses, who would only tell me that I was in a special ward for mutants. I could have figured that out myself, since the kid in the room next to mind kept temporarily paralyzing anyone he touched, and I heard the nurses talking about another girl who set things on fire.  
  
I did have one encounter with a doctor. A woman came into the room, clipboard in hand, to quiz me about my powers. "So tell me, when did you first notice your mutation taking effect?" She said, without so much as a hello.  
  
I was slightly annoyed, as this was the first significant human contact I'd had in the two days I'd been conscious, and I let it show. "Good morning, doctor, I'm Alex. How are you today? What happened in the accident? Why am I here? Is everyone OK? And have you seen my father?"  
  
She gave me a startled look, possibly because I wasn't meekly following orders as she would have liked. My eye bandages were off by this time, and trust me, if she could have seen my eyes, she'd have been getting a death stare. As it was, my glaring was only making me lose control of my vision, and I saw straight through her and the wall beyond. They were now tranquilizing the patient who kept paralyzing people.  
  
"Well, Alex," she started, "I'm Dr. Eggers, and I'm just trying to understand the full effects of your mutation, so we can better handle you. As for your other questions, I'll answer them as soon as you help me answer mine."  
  
Despite her now friendly demeanor, I still didn't like her. I merely shook my head as she moved through her checklist, asking me if I'd ever had any weird accidents, or noticed any bodily changes (other than my eyes, she had picked up on that), on top of the usual stuff like medicinal allergies.  
  
After going through the entire list without any actual response from me, she looked up and sighed.  
  
"You know, Alex, we can't very well help you if you don't tell us what's wrong. Just what can you do?"  
  
"I see in the dark, that's all" I lied, "I don't think there's anything else." I don't know why I didn't tell her that I could see through walls. It's just that I picked up on an atmosphere, possibly from watching the kid next door and overhearing the nurses' conversations, that we were all considered dangerous-and I figured that x-ray vision would add to that sense. At least seeing in the dark wouldn't be so "dangerous" that I'd have to be tranquilized like paralysis boy.  
  
Dr. Eggers looked at me skeptically, but seemed to accept my answer, so she moved on to answer my questions. "First of all, I'm fine to day. Thank you for asking.  
  
"Now, you're here in the mutant ward because it came to our attention that you were a mutant while we were operating on you. You were injured when the car you were driving hit a tree. Everyone else in the crash was injured, but Carlos, Zachary, and Jacob were all released yesterday, and Mr. Nesblatt will be fine. He was thrown through the windshield because he wasn't wearing a seatbelt, but he'll recover.  
  
"Your father was in here Monday, shortly before you woke up. I spoke with him, and he decided you should remain here for awhile, while he determines what would be best for someone in your situation. He'd like you to rest and recover until further notice. There, does that answer all of your questions?"  
  
I stared at her as I thought for more questions.  
  
"Can I have visitors? I'd like to see some of my friends."  
  
"I'm sorry, but we only allow family to visit here. Privacy is paramount in this ward." She gave me one of those annoyingly perky smiles. "Anything else?"  
  
"Well, can I at least have a paper?"  
  
"If we've got one."  
  
She left to get the paper and I returned to my thoughts. I no doubt had hit that tree because I had seen right through it. As far as I could see that night, the road was clear when I recovered from that blinding by the SUV. It was a little scary to consider driving now that I knew how dangerous I could be. I couldn't even consistently see people's shirts, so how was I going to be able to even make sure I could see the cars in front of me?  
  
"Here you go. We didn't have a paper, but I found a Time from April in the waiting room."  
  
Dr. Eggers handed me the two month old magazine and walked out of the room. At least it was something to read-I was going insane sitting in a room alone all day. Even I have a limit to the amount of bad daytime TV I can watch.  
  
I sat in the silent room and contemplated further. I knew I wasn't going to get any visitors. My father would no doubt distance himself from me because it would not go over well with his supporters. I wondered if my sister even knew, and what they'd told my friends. I sighed. I had a feeling that I would be in here for awhile, and once I got out, summer would be well underway. At least I could play the accident off as a mistake, and avoid everyone except my friends, who had accepted that I was just eccentric. Until then, life was going to be quite boring.  
  
But just when you're hoping life is going to return to normal, it usually doesn't, just to spite you.  
  
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Author's Note: Let's have a party because I have a plot. Keep reading to find out what happens next-I've already written much of the next chapter, so it won't be long.  
  
If you're wondering why Alex looks vaguely Asian, it's because he is part Asian. It's not a particularly important part of the story, it's just the way he looked in my head.  
  
On completely unrelated note, I was doing research on Alex's name (which I picked because I liked) and discovered the name Allister is a Scottish (duh) variation on Alexander. This means that his name is Alexander son of Alexander. I found this highly entertaining in a you-should-never-do-this- to-your-kids sort of way. It's an innocent mistake, I swear-I'm not that cruel. At least it beats Jerry Jerrod. 


	3. Recruiting Mission

Chapter 3-Recruiting Mission  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the X Men, although I do own Alex McAllister. While it is nice to own something, Alex isn't very useful. I suggested once that he go out and get a job so he could support me, but he pointed out that he is a fictitious character, and there seems to be a lot of workplace discrimination against people who don't actually exist.  
  
*Scott, Rogue, please meet me by Cerebro. There is a new student I would like your help in recruiting.*  
  
"Woohoo! I'm missing school today!"  
  
All that greeted me was a table full of confused faces.  
  
"Rogue and I are going on a recruiting mission, which means no school today."  
  
Confused faces turned into laughs until Kitty finally spoke up in between giggles. "Uh, Scott? Today is, like, the first day of summer vacation."  
  
I cursed under my breath as the laughing continued. It wasn't that funny. "Well at least I get out of breakfast dish duty. Have fun scraping scrambled eggs out of the frying pan." I walked out of the room, knowing that my fellow dish washers were glaring at me, and that I would most likely pay for it later.  
  
I passed Rogue still in her pajamas stumbling out of her room on the way to Cerebro and gave her a smile. "Morning Rogue, are you excited about a new recruit?"  
  
She gave me a typical scowl and said, "Ah don't know about you, but all this means to me is that Ah don't get to sleep in this morning." I gave her an annoyingly perky smile in return, and tried to make getting up early seem wonderful by declaring that a recruiting mission was for the greater good of the Institute until she couldn't take it any longer. "Oh just don't even try four-eyes," she said, slightly amused "Ah can sleep on the plane."  
  
"Aah, Scott, Rogue, I'm glad to see you managed to get up this morning. I was beginning to wonder if I had caught you awake when I sent the message." The Professor was seated at Cerebro with Ms. Munroe by his side; I assumed she was coming too.  
  
He displayed a few pictures of the boy on the computer screen and began explaining his history. His name was Alex, he was from DC, and he could see through solid objects and in the dark.  
  
More interesting was the information on his family. His mother had died while he was young, and he was raised by his father, who happened to be none other than Rep. Zander McAllister of Washington state, the lead proponent of the MRA.  
  
Rogue seemed to have noticed this tidbit of information, too. "Uh, Professor? How're we gonna convince his family to let him come if they're so anti-mutant?"  
  
"I understand your concerns, Rogue, and Storm and I are working on what we're going to do with his father. I want you and Scott to focus on him. Just explain what we do and how we can help him."  
  
The Professor dismissed us and all got up to get ready for the mission. Storm checked her watch and told us to be back in half an hour to leave. "I believe that gives Rogue enough time to get dressed, and you, Mr. Summers, can go help with the breakfast dishes."  
  
I groaned. Just when I thought I was going to get out of something today, my brilliant maneuvering falls apart before my eyes. Time to go scrape the frying pan.  
  
----------------------------------------------------  
  
"Alex, you have some visitors today."  
  
I looked up in surprise. Only yesterday had I been told that no visitors were allowed, and yet two complete strangers proceeded to enter the room.  
  
They were both about my age. The first one was a guy who could have come straight from a Gap commercial, or any other generic picture of white, middle class preppy life for that matter. The second one was a girl wearing only a br-oh wait, never mind. I saw right through her shirt, which I realized, when I brought it back into focus, was black-much like the rest of her clothing. Had she been wearing sunglasses, she could have joined me in the people-who-belong-in-the-Matrix club.  
  
Oddly enough, Gap boy was wearing sunglasses. Red ones to be exact. I wouldn't have cared normally, because I shouldn't talk, but I did have all the lights turned off in the room. I kept staring at them until Gap boy spoke.  
  
"Hi Alex. I'm Scott and this is my friend Rogue and we just wanted to talk to you for a minute about your powers."  
  
This seemed as weird as Dr. Eggers talking to me, but they didn't repel me quite so much. I listened quietly as they went on.  
  
"Ya see, we both have powers like you, and we know what you're going through. We've been there before." The girl was speaking now. I would have kept silent, but I but I just couldn't swallow that comment, no matter how nice they seemed.  
  
"You mean you, too, have to wear sunglasses or else you'll be blinded by everyone around you? I thought I was the only one!" The sarcasm shot through my voice as I kept going. "And, you know, I'm glad we've all hospitalized four people and totaled a car; it's one, big, shared experience."  
  
They let me rant, exchanging knowing looks as I vented. Matrix Girl looked like she was going to laugh, but Gap boy was glaring at her from behind his glasses. Scott covered her snort by responding to my rant.  
  
"Actually, before I started wearing these glasses for protection, I consistently damaged anything in view when I opened my eyes. I knocked a hole in my bedroom, once." I began to see why Rogue was laughing; apparently I hadn't had it so bad after all.  
  
"Ah actually sent more people than I can count to the hospital before Ah figured out what was going on. Life sucks when ya can't control your powers, but once ya get the hang of it, it's almost as normal as before, and usually more interesting."  
  
They exchanged looks again, but I cut them off as I struggled to remove my foot from my mouth. "Ok, I get your drift on the whole my-life-isn't-shit thing, but what're you talking about now?"  
  
They turned back to me and Scott began explaining. "We both go to the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youth. Officially, it's an elite boarding school and tutoring program for talented kids."  
  
"Which is what it actually is," Interrupted Rogue. "It's just that most people don't know that those talents are all gifts from the X gene. We go to the local high school during the day and get special combat training and tutoring with our powers after school."  
  
"Combat training?" I said. "So, you're all what, normal high school students by day and a secret crime-fighting force at night?"  
  
"Pretty much," said Rogue.  
  
"Well, a lot of our missions are during the day, but otherwise, yes." Added Scott.  
  
I would've said they were joking, but they weren't. Scott kept going.  
  
"We're not just here to tell you about ourselves. We want to offer you a place at the Institute." They handed me a folder with some official looking brochures on the school, including some that explained what the school really was about.  
  
"You're asking me to join a teen mutant crime-fighting squad?"  
  
"We're askin' if ya want to be in a place where ya can have a normal life and not live in constant fear of being discovered. A place where ya can learn to control and develop your powers. A place where ya can be with others like you."  
  
"And besides," added Scott, "you'd train for awhile before you went on missions."  
  
I looked at them both as I pondered their offer. I still had no idea how my friends were going to take the whole mutant thing. In fact, I had no idea if I would ever be safe if anyone heard about the whole mutant thing. My school was unfortunately not exactly a warm and welcoming place for non preppy, upper middle class, white good old boys, and my father couldn't accept me for who I was because I essentially went against his entire philosophical and political platform. The more I thought about it, the more inviting the Xavier Institute seemed. All I had to do was convince my father.  
  
I brought my mind back to give my answer.  
  
"I'd like to come to the Institute-it sounds like it'll be better than staying at home." The two smiled. "I'm just worried about how my father will take it. It's slightly more than a moral opposition to mutants in his case-he's sort of leading the crusade against mutantkind."  
  
"We know," said Scott. "It isn't going to be a fun conversation, but we'll figure out a way to convince him when we visit him today." They got up to go, leaving the folder with me so I could read more about the school I'd just agreed to go to. As they headed for the door, I thought of one more thing to ask them.  
  
"Hey, if you're going to my house, could you tell my little sister that even though I'm not getting a license, I'll still take her out for ice cream? Her name's Nora."  
  
"No problem" Scott replied. They went into the hallway, leaving me with my brochures, and hoping my father wouldn't have them shot before they convinced him to let me go.  
  
-------------------------------------------------  
  
I answered the door and four strangers were there: a bald guy in a wheelchair, a tall black woman with white hair, and two teenagers, a boy and a girl.  
  
"Good evening," the wheelchair guy said, "You must be Alex's sister, Nora. "May we speak with your father?"  
  
"How do you know Alex?" I asked, "and why do you want to talk to my dad?" I'd never seen these people before, so I was naturally a bit skeptical.  
  
"I met him earlier today" the tall boy said, "with Rogue." He pointed to the girl next to him, who nodded shyly. "I'm Scott Summers, by the way."  
  
"And I'm-" The bald man would've kept going, but my father cut him off from inside the house.  
  
"Honey, if they're Jehovah's Witnesses, just tell them we're late for a meeting with Beelzebub or something and shut the door."  
  
"They're not Witnesses, Dad. They want to talk about Alex."  
  
This got him to the door. Nobody had mentioned Alex in our household in the four days since the accident. All Dad would tell anyone was that he wasn't in mortal danger, but with no other news, I was beginning to worry.  
  
"Who the hell are you and what do you know about my son?"  
  
My father had appeared at the door, pushing me out of the way.  
  
"Mr. McAllister, I am Professor Charles Xavier," he said calmly. "This is my colleague, Ororo Munroe, and two of my students, Rogue and Scott." I looked at all of them as they nodded politely to my father when they were introduced. Ms. Munroe even extended a hand, but my father simply stared straight ahead. Mr. Xavier didn't seem to notice this and kept going. "I am the headmaster of the Xavier Institute for Talented Youth, and I believe that young Alex's gifts are ideally suited for my school."  
  
At the mention of my brother's "gifts," my father looked like he was going to slam the door in their faces, but he decided against it and ushered them into the living room instead. He completely forgot about me, so I followed the last stranger into the room and sat down in the corner to watch.  
  
Once they were all settled, Mr. Xavier started talking.  
  
"As I said earlier, I run the Xavier Institute," he began to explain. "We are an exclusive academy that to the outside world is for gifted students. Not know to the public, however, is that we cater to the specific needs of mutants."  
  
He kept going, but I stopped listening. Mutants? Since when was my brother a mutant? Honestly, I didn't know a whole lot about them, except that they could do things I couldn't and my dad thought they were dangerous. This would explain why he never talked about Alex; he was afraid.  
  
I looked at the two teenagers. Were they mutants? They must be, since they went to Mr. Xavier's school. They didn't look threatening, though. In fact, the guy, Scott, was kind of cute. I brought my mind back to the conversation between my father and Mr. Xavier.  
  
"You're asking me to send my son to a school for mutants where he can develop his 'gifts'? You're not just psychotic, you're stupid. You've done your research; you know who I am. I should call the FBI right now."  
  
"But I know you won't," Said the Professor. "As much as you don't want to admit it, you have a stake in this too. As the leading legislator of the Mutant Registration Act, and as a politician with a viable opposition in an election year, you care very much about your public image. Having your son exposed in your current situation would be highly damaging to your career and your effectiveness as a politician. I know you want to do what's best for your son. You still love him, even though he is what you would call abnormal. Sending him to the Institute would provide a chance for him to understand and control his abilities, and our secrecy would allow you to maintain your current image."  
  
I watched my father weigh the arguments in his head. He knew Mr. Xavier had a point, and no matter how much he wanted to completely ignore my brother now that he was a mutant, he wasn't going away.  
  
While Dad struggled with this decision, I noticed that Scott had moved closer to me. He caught my attention and leaned toward me to say something. I eyed him cautiously, not sure why he was talking to me.  
  
"Alex told me to tell you that even though he won't be getting his license, he'll still find a way to take you out for ice cream when he gets home."  
  
"Why won't he have his license?" I asked.  
  
"I think it's because his powers affect his vision, and until he gets control of that, it's not a good idea to drive."  
  
"Oh." I said. I looked at him again. He seemed nice enough, so I figured I'd keep on asking questions. I have a problem with keeping my mouth shut- it doesn't happen very often.  
  
"What are his powers?"  
  
"He's really sensitive to light, and he can see through things." This would explain why he shouldn't be driving.  
  
"Are you a mutant too?" It was a question I had been wanting to ask for awhile. I knew what the answer would be, but I wanted to ask anyway. There was a pause before he answered.  
  
"Yes," he said, "that's why I'm a student at the Institute."  
  
"What do you do?" I kept going; as long as he was answering them, I figured why not. Besides, the more I talked to him, the less afraid I was of him.  
  
"I shoot force beams from my eyes-it's why I wear these all the time." He pointed to his sunglasses. That would explain why he was wearing them inside.  
  
"I suppose it would be for the best if Alex went to your school for.mutants." I heard my father spit the word out as if it were a blasphemous. I also heard the sigh of relief from the others in the room. The three adults proceeded to discuss boring stuff like cost and transportation in the kitchen, leaving the two highschoolers and me in the living room. They talked with each other while my mind wandered back to my brother.  
  
For as long as I could remember, my brother has been the coolest person I know. Even when I'm particularly annoying, he's always put up with his little sister. I remember once, when I was seven, we went to Disneyland, and he waited in line with me for two hours so we could go on It's a Small World, because our father refused. Looking back, it was quite impressive-a ten-year-old boy would never be caught dead on It's a Small World if he had any say in the matter.  
  
And now he was going away. We'd never actually gone to the same school, since my father was a fan of single-sex education, but now, instead of being across the street, he'd be five hours away. And he wasn't exactly going to come home very often-Dad was so afraid word would get out that he couldn't come home from the hospital.  
  
But what exactly was my father afraid of? Alex was the same person he'd always been-I mean, you just didn't become a mutant overnight, it's in your genes-so if he'd always been so "dangerous," as Dad put it, why was he suddenly a risk?  
  
And what was he at risk of doing? Seeing through things may be weird, but it's not like that can kill people. Dad had always talked about mutants as if they were homicidal maniacs, bent on using their powers to persecute normal people. I knew Alex wasn't a homicidal maniac, and even if he was, how could X-Ray vision make him more dangerous?  
  
Alex has and always will be my big brother-the one who protected me from bullies in the park, who taught me how to roller blade and play the piano, who even went as my date to the 8th grade dance because the boy I asked turned me down at the last minute-and no matter how people see him, my view of him will never change.  
  
Dad may suddenly fear his son, but I couldn't. I couldn't even bring myself to fear the two other mutants sitting in the room. They hadn't threatened me, and every time I felt afraid, I just had to remind myself that they were like Alex, and how bad could that be?  
  
.....................................  
  
So we end with an epiphany from Alex's little sister. I rather like her. The X-Men have entered (see, there is a reason the story was posted under this category) and the Brotherhood will eventually make an appearance as well. I'm afraid I still haven't gotten much into the actual plot, but hey, it's only chapter three, and some books don't take off until halfway through, so I've got time before people start complaining.  
  
I'm sorry I suck at writing accents-when I try to write Rogue, she either ends up sounding like Scarlett O'Hara or Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel, and she really doesn't fit into either of those categories.  
  
Random thought of the day: I love reviews, don't you? How 'bout posting one?  
  
Shameless plug for other story: I just posted a random one-shot fic about Kurt. Take a look.  
  
~ciao, HNH 


	4. New Places

Chapter 4-New Places  
  
Disclaimer (in haiku form today): McAllister's mine/alas, the X-Men are not/Marvel has their souls  
  
Random haiku (because I'm really bored): Summer nears an end/the crickets quietly chirp/to college I go  
  
........................  
  
So after two more weeks of sitting around in the hospital reading old Time magazines, with only one other visitor (this time it was Professor Xavier himself), they finally let me come home. It's amazing-if Dad had bribed enough people, I'd probably have stayed there forever. As it was, I had to come home because they were running out of beds, and I had to pack for school.  
  
Home was better than the hospital, but only because I had good books, cable, and a computer. I still wasn't allowed out of the house-my sister's promised trip to Ben and Jerry's turned into "sneak out of the house while Dad's at a late committee meeting," which almost became that final scene from "Ferris Bueller's Day Off," in which Matthew Broderick races through the neighborhood to get home before his parents do. I don't think I've ever run home that fast from the bus stop.  
  
That was my one foray into the outside world for the month of July. I left for the Institute at the beginning of August, I suspect largely because my father couldn't stand having me around the house any more. Frankly, I didn't like having him staring at me as if I was going to attack him any more than he liked me just being me, and while I love my sister, a thirteen- year-old girl is only so much company. They went to drop me off at the train station, and after a half hour of waiting in awkward silence while the train was delayed, I was finally able to board.  
  
"Well," I said, "this is it."  
  
I looked at my family. Nora looked like she was on the verge of tears, but then again, she's cried during commercials, so it wasn't exactly out of character. I hugged her and told her I'd be home for Thanksgiving, and turned to my father.  
  
Dad was staring straight ahead. Up until this summer, he probably would have hugged me and told me to be a good sport or something of the like, but all he could manage this time was a faint "goodbye."  
  
I looked at him through my sunglasses and sighed. This was about all I'd ever get from him now.  
  
"Goodbye, Dad," I said. "I'll call when I get there. See you in November." I picked up my bags and headed for the platform. Nora waved until I'd disappeared, but my father just watched until I was gone.  
  
............................  
  
I had one thing to say about the Xavier mansion when I arrived: "Damn, this place is huge!" That about summed it up.  
  
Everyone was really nice when I arrived. The students were in a training session, so I didn't meet them, but Professor Xavier showed me my room and told me that dinner was in twenty minutes in the dining room.  
  
I walked into my new room and shuddered. It was freezing in there. I immediately found the air conditioning, which incidentally had been turned down as far as it could go, turned it off, and opened a window.  
  
After standing by the window letting the hot August air into the room, I turned and found what could only be my roommate standing in the doorway.  
  
"Hey, why is it so hot in here?" he asked. "All my stuff's gonna melt!"  
  
Shit. It was my first day and I'd already managed to piss my roommate off. I looked around, and sure enough, there were ice sculptures all around the room, which were now forming puddles on the floor. I guess I had been so focused on not getting frostbite that I hadn't noticed there was a reason for the walk in freezer. Knowing me, I probably saw right through them.  
  
"Aww, man. Logan's gonna kill me. I promised him it wouldn't happen again." He sighed and left the doorway, presumably to find a mop.  
  
I went to close the window and turn the air conditioning on before he got back. When he did return, he flicked on the lights (I winced at the brightness, as usual) and noticed me standing there.  
  
He kind of stared for awhile, so I broke the ice with, "hi, I'm Alex. You must be my roommate."  
  
He looked at me and then around the room. His eyes widened as if he'd suddenly remembered something. "Shit," he said. "I completely forgot you were coming today. Great, now I really have to clean up this mess." He started mopping up the water while he picked up the clothes on the floor. "I normally don't keep it this cold in here, but I decided to do a little creative decoration yesterday. I would've let them melt outside, but I wanted to show them to Ray and Sam."  
  
"Oh." I said, for lack of anything else to say.  
  
"I'm Bobby, by the way, but you can also call me Iceman." I almost laughed at the name-Iceman-it sounded like he belonged in a horror flick set in the Himalayas, or a freezer commercial, but he was serious.  
  
"Nice to meet you." We shook hands and I noticed he was rather cold. Figures-they probably called him Iceman for a reason. I took up the mop and helped shove the ice sculptures out the window while we had the, "so, what do you do?" conversation. Turns out he can make ice-although at this point, I wasn't exactly surprised.  
  
We went down to dinner, where I got the full barrage of the students. Bobby went around the table, saying names lightning quick.  
  
"Ok, that's Scott, Jean, Kitty, Rogue, Evan, Amara, Ray, Roberto, Sam, Jamie, Jubilee, and Rahne. I think the only person we're missing is Kurt, which is impressive. I don't think he's ever been late for a meal as long as I've been here."  
  
I looked around the table and promptly forgot everyone's names. I went to go sit down in an empty chair when I heard a muffled explosion and the chair was suddenly filled.  
  
I jumped back in surprise as the other students laughed. "Sorry," Bobby said, "I should've warned you about that. He regularly 'ports into rooms." I nodded meekly and then went to sit down on the other side of Bobby, hoping that nobody else would make a sudden appearance.  
  
"Hey Kurt," somebody said, "you should apologize to the new guy. I think you scared the crap out of him when you appeared in his chair." Kurt looked up from his plate of food to give his apologies and scared even more crap out of me. He was blue.  
  
Social inhibitions, and the fact that I was in a place for people who could do weird things, kept me from yelling, but nothing could prevent me from staring open-mouthed. I strained my eyes, hoping I was just seeing a costume or something and there was a normal boy somewhere, but all I saw was the girl sitting on his other side.  
  
"Sorry," he said. "I didn't know you vere going to sit there."  
  
He smiled and went back to his food, but I couldn't help but stare. It was a blue boy with a German accent. The rest of the table seemed to ignore this oddity, so I tried my best to fit in, but it wasn't exactly easy.  
  
"He usually startles new students," said the girl on the other side of me. "On my first day, he accidentally teleported onto my bed as I was unpacking, and he didn't even have his image inducer on."  
  
"Image inducer?" I asked. Maybe I wasn't crazy-maybe this blue thing was an image.  
  
"Yeah," she said. "He's, um.not exactly normal looking, because of his mutation and all, so when we're at school, or just around people who don't know him well, he wears a watch that projects a more normal image."  
  
I looked at blue boy again. "That's a normal image?" I asked in disbelief. "If blue is normal for him, what's he actually look like?"  
  
"You can't see the image?" Now she sounded confused. "He's got it on right now."  
  
I checked again, but nope, only blue and fur. I shook my head.  
  
"What do you have, super human eyesight?" she asked.  
  
"X-ray vision, actually."  
  
"Well then, you probably just can't see it." She said this matter-of- factly. "I'm Amara, by the way."  
  
"Nice to meet you, I said. She smiled and we went back to our food.  
  
Not since before my mutation manifested had I ever felt this accepted. Sure, weird things were happening all around me-Bobby made his own ice cubes for his drink (he offered to chill mine, too, but I declined), Amara heated her mashed potatoes with her hands, and some other girl went right through the table to pick up a fork she dropped-but for the first time in eight months, nobody was punishing me for wearing sunglasses, there were no jokes about the Matrix, I wasn't stuck in a hospital bed, and when I told people I could see through solid objects, they acted like I'd told them I liked cheese. It was great.  
  
.........................................  
  
I met with the Professor after dinner to discuss what I'd be doing here.  
  
"Well Alex, I hope you had a good dinner. I'm sorry Kurt startled you-I don't think either of us knew you couldn't see his image inducer." He chuckled softly. "It's a constant learning process for each student at the Institute. Every day holds a new discovery for someone, and today it must have been your turn.  
  
"Before you start with your regular training, I'd like to explore your powers one-on-one, both with me and with Logan and Storm, two of our instructors. I'd also like to make you some glasses that are better suited to your vision, so if you would meet with Dr. McCoy tomorrow, we could get started on that as well.  
  
"In your free time, feel free to explore the mansion or Bayville, or just sit around and read. I've also set up a small corner of the library for you to practice your cello if you desire."  
  
"Thanks Professor" I said. He rolled away from his desk so I got up to go.  
  
"I believe you'll find your fellow students downstairs in the rec room watching the Simpsons. Lights out is at 11 tonight."  
  
I left the room and went off to enjoy an evening of Fox with my new classmates.  
  
.....................  
  
Author's Note: For the record, this story is either AU or just takes place before the whole "Day of Reckoning" series of episodes. For clarification, nobody knows about the X-Men or the Brotherhood, Spyke hasn't joined the Morlocks, Pietro hasn't gone to Daddy and then returned in command of the Brotherhood. Wanda still hates Magneto, Risty's identity hasn't been revealed, Jubilee and Rahne are still at the Institute. 


	5. The Plot Thickens

Chapter 5-The Plot Thickens  
  
..........  
  
I ducked as another bean bag came whizzing towards me. Training was definitely hard, but I was getting the hang of it.  
  
I was doing a solo session, with Jean controlling the flying bean bags, and Storm in the booth controlling everything else. The goal was to dodge the flying objects-no small feat there-and then find Jean to take her out.  
  
Well, I didn't exactly have to knock her down to finish, I just had to get a hold on her, which is hard to do when the person's flying.  
  
The room dimmed around me again-Storm kept adjusting the light levels so I'd have to keep changing the intensity of my new glasses. They were really cool; Dr. McCoy put lenses in them that I can adjust according to what I want to see, so that in dark rooms, they can almost go completely clear and I can see in the dark like it's normal daylight, but I had to get used to adjusting them constantly.  
  
Whap! My focus on my glasses came back to haunt me as I got pelted by bean bags. I turned to run and promptly hit a wall. It's harder than it looks to actually see what's in front of you when you're panicked. It was the third time today I'd done that.  
  
If this was an improvement, you can tell how bad I was at the beginning. I came out black and blue from my first session, and that was mostly from running into things, not even from the bean bags.  
  
I was actually surprisingly good at dodging the things when I was able to fully concentrate on them. I just kind of knew when they were coming. It's just hard to do that when you're being blinded by light and running through a maze.  
  
I stopped in an alcove-like structure to catch my breath and scan around for Jean. I looked around me, going through layer upon layer of wall, until I finally spotted her in the corner. The use of my powers meant that she located me again, so I took off running as the bean bags went flying. Who would've thought that split peas would hurt so much?  
  
I finally found her without using my powers, so she couldn't track me. I was about to pounce on her (and by that I mean grab her ankles-the rest was lifted too high for me to reach), when all the sudden, I couldn't see; it was too bright. I immediately bent over to adjust my glasses, but my sudden movement got her attention, and I was pinned to the floor by bean bags.  
  
So close!  
  
"Good job, Alex," came Storm's voice over the speakers, "just always be aware of the changing light levels. If you let your defenses down, you could be incapacitated by so much as a flashlight."  
  
"I know." I shook the bean bags off of me-Jean had let them go-and got up. "I did get much closer this time, though."  
  
"You would've gotten me if the lights hadn't come on," added Jean. "I completely lost you in the dark."  
  
"Ah, the advantages of night vision," Storm said as she joined us on the floor. "You just need to get used to adjusting those glasses. With enough practice, it should become like second nature."  
  
I headed for the shower as they discussed various students' progress in the individual sessions.  
  
..............  
  
So I was watching Wanda get ready for bed-is that so bad? I mean, if she didn't want people watching her, then maybe she should pull her shade when people like me just *happen* to be sitting out on the lawn. I was just enjoying the night air, catching a few flies, listening to the crickets chirp, when she was..  
  
Well, I won't tell you what she was doing, because it might be rude to share, but let me tell you, I rather enjoyed it.  
  
Anyway, I was on the verge of drooling when I heard a runner pass by the house.  
  
"Hey, can you tell me the way back to Evergreen Lane?" I turned in surprise. At this point, most people in Bayville avoided this house because so many weird things went on, but he didn't seem to have any problem with us. "I've gone for a run and I can't find my way home."  
  
"Hey, you're a new X-Geek, aren't you?" The only place on Evergreen Lane that's not government property is the X-geek mansion, so I figured he must be one of them. I took a closer look at him, and sure enough, he was wearing an Xavier Institute t-shirt, and sunglasses-I figured that since it was night, this was a mutation thing. He also had a rather confused look on his face.  
  
"Uh, I go to the Xavier Institute, if that's what you mean."  
  
I laughed to myself. Obviously he had no idea who he was talking to, so I decided to clue him in, in a manner that would provide entertainment for me, of course.  
  
"Well then," I caught a fly for a dramatic effect "welcome to Bayville."  
  
He looked even more confused. "Thanks..I think. I'm Alex McAllister."  
  
He held out his hand for me to shake but I ignored it, choosing instead to hop over his head and land behind him. "The name's Todd Tolansky," I said as he whipped around, "but you can call me Toad."  
  
I hopped off toward the house, stopping only to glance back at the guy, who was now staring in amazement. It's so much fun to screw with people's perception of what humans can do-it almost made up for missing Wanda's peep show. I laughed to myself as I entered the house.  
  
"Just what's so funny?"  
  
Avalanche was sitting in the family room, watching TV.  
  
"Oh nothing," I sang. I knew my getting to meet the new kid first would piss him off, so I decided to milk it for all I could get.  
  
"Oh, come on." He knew I had news. "Who were you talking to in the yard?"  
  
I smiled and caught a fly, and gave him a smug smile from my perch on a side chair. "It was just a new x-geek." I spoke slowly and quietly so he'd have to listen to me.  
  
That got his attention. He sat up in his chair and glared at me. "Well," he said, "what about him? What can he do?"  
  
Shit. The grin dropped off my face. Sure, I'd been able to screw with his head a bit, but I hadn't gotten the dirt on him. I'd just broken the news to Lance that we were facing new competition, and I couldn't tell him anything else.  
  
"Man, you're sure desperate. If you wanna know him so bad, why not just go find him. He's probably still lost."  
  
"Don't fuck with me, Toad. What d'ya know about him?"  
  
The ground was shaking, so I started talking. "didn't get anything more than his name was Alex..uh..Alex McAllister"  
  
"Great. So there's a new X-Man, and you actually got to talk to him, and all you got was his name? What's wrong with you? Mystique's gonna be pissed when that's all I have to tell her." He was mad. I decided to put the responsibility on him and escape to bed.  
  
"Well, if you're so eager, just go after him. I'm going to bed, yo." I hopped up the stairs, pausing only to wish sweet Wanda good night.  
  
..........  
  
"Rogue, Risty's here!"  
  
"Ah'm coming!" Ah yelled as Ah looked for my favorite gloves. Ah found them under the bed and headed for the front hall; Ah wanted to get out of here quick. Every time she came around to the mansion, Risty always looked at me kinda funny-Ah think it's because there's always something weird goin' on, even when we're not supposed to be using our powers.  
  
This time it was Rahne in her wolf form chasing Jubilee and Bobby down the hall.  
  
"Hey, you guys, cut it out" I hissed as we neared the main steps, "we got company." Bobby and Jubes merely giggled and went off elsewhere, Wolfsbane looked at me and trotted off toward her room, still in wolf form. I hoped that if Risty saw that, she'd dismiss it as the Institute dog or something.  
  
Fortunately, she was chatting with Alex when I got downstairs. Hopefully the wolf howls had escaped her notice.  
  
"So, where are you from?" Not only was she chatting, she seemed rather fixated on him.  
  
"DC. Well, I'm actually from Virginia, but any smart northern Virginian claims to be from DC."  
  
She laughed. She was quite taken with him. Ah could see the appeal, though frankly, he was a tad too preppy for my liking. "So do your parents work in the White House, or the Pentagon?"  
  
"Well, actually, my dad, um...is a....congressman." He kind of muttered that last part; Ah knew he was eager to distance himself from his father.  
  
"Cool-what state's he from?" Ah decided to break up this little party before Alex got even more uncomfortable. Ah think being pressed about his father was about as much fun as getting zapped by me, except Ah knew not to do it. Ah cleared my throat to get their attention.  
  
"Hey Risty, if we don't get going, we're going to miss the movie." She looked at her watch and cursed.  
  
"See you later, then," she said. He nodded as we walked out the door.  
  
"You know," she said to me as we walked out the door, "he doesn't talk much, but he's kind of cute."  
  
Ah sighed. Granted, Ah liked my fair share men, but she seemed interested in pretty much every guy that came to the Institute. Maybe it was a thing for mysterious men.  
  
.........  
  
Risty had proven to be more useful than I initially thought.  
  
I had started using her form just to keep tabs on the active, trained X- Men, but as new students arrived at the Institute, she became more and more helpful.  
  
This time, I used her to confirm my suspicions. The new student was none other than Zander McAllister's son.  
  
This was priceless.  
  
Zander McAllister-the same Zander McAllister who was pushing so hard to put every mutant behind bars-had a mutant for a son.  
  
My options were limitless. If word got out about the boy, he would be publicly disgraced. He could resign, or get kicked out of Congress.  
  
Or better yet, switch sides, and devote his life to the fight for mutant equality. How could he allow himself to be branded as a man who didn't love his son?  
  
But politics were not my forte. I can infiltrate pretty much any system, but I didn't even vote in the last election.  
  
It was time to call in a favor.  
  
...............  
  
Dun, dun, DUN! What's Mystique up to? And just what was Wanda doing in her room? (ok, so that's not exactly vital to the story, but I have no other hanging plotlines, so I just had to ask it)  
  
Next chapter: Alex FINALLY gets to school (I've had that part written for awhile) and Mystique has a meeting.  
  
I like to extend a heartfelt THANK YOU all who have reviewed. I feel so loved! So a thank you and a cookie* go out to the following...  
  
Pschobunny410, Alinora, Ima Super Mute Ant, and Risty.  
  
On a more serious note, if you have any comments on my writing style, character development, plot development, et cetera, feel free to share. I can pop out a 6-page essay on Emerson's views of organized religion as expressed through his works like it's my job, but I've never really tried to write fiction before.  
  
The whole story will be told in first person, with varying narrators, so if you do or don't like a particular narrator, or want to see someone entirely new, I'm taking requests.  
  
Anyway, thanks for reading, and don't forget to review,  
  
hnh  
  
*must provide own cookie 


	6. A New School

Chapter 6-A New School  
  
.................  
  
So I'm generally an early riser, but nothing prepared me for the 5 AM icy wake-up call I got from my roommate for a before the first day of school.  
  
"Alex! Alex wake up!" Ice cubes rained down on me. "We've got a group training session in fifteen minutes."  
  
"You're kidding me."  
  
"Would I normally ice your bed to wake you up?"  
  
"Knowing you, yes."  
  
"Ah, but not at five in the morning."  
  
I stared at him, as the ice piled up around me. He was grinning, but I was not a happy camper right then. "Whatever you say, freezer boy," I knew it would piss him off, so before he could react, I jumped out of bed and headed for the door.  
  
"Don't you ever call me freezer boy again!" he yelled as I dodged blasts of ice. "You'll pay for this in the danger room. See if I freeze the robot attacking your ass today."  
  
"See if I tell you it's coming, ice cube." I replied. I jumped aside as another shot came my way. The room was still dark, so I had an advantage. I slipped out into the hallway and went to change into my uniform.  
  
It was a search and rescue simulation today, and it would've been fun, except that I still couldn't get over the fact that it was FIVE IN THE MORING. Honestly, who trains at 5 AM? I should look into that-maybe I could talk to Logan. No wait, better make that Ms. Munroe.  
  
We were done by 6:30, which still gave us plenty of time to get ready for school.  
  
Admittedly, I was as excited as I was scared about the prospect of a new school-the last time I had been new at a school was in kindergarten, so I wasn't prepared for the change. On the other hand, in the eleven years I attended St. Asaph's Academy for Boys, I had never really enjoyed it, so any change was welcome. Besides, it would be the first time I'd been to school with girls since preschool.  
  
Because of my nerves, I was ready by 7:30 and caught the early ride from Ms. Munroe. I found myself in a hallway full of students-none of whom I knew. Bobby and Amara stayed around for awhile, but they eventually headed off to find their first class, so I decided to do the same.  
  
I looked at my schedule. First period: Orchestra. Teacher: Dr. Pavletski. Room: Orch. Great-the orchestra room didn't even have a number. I just had to wander the halls of a gigantic and unfamiliar school aimlessly until I stumbled across the music wing.  
  
Fortunately for me, I didn't have to take that approach. I spotted a guy carrying a guitar talking to another with a saxophone. They weren't exactly orchestra instruments, but I figured they must be headed in the right direction. As we neared the music rooms, I found more string instruments and ditched the guitarist.  
  
I sat down in what I assumed to be the cello section and began warming up slowly. As I was early, there weren't that many people there, just a few who were hanging out in the orchestra room before school started.  
  
While I went through my major and minor arpeggios, I watched the others in the room. In typical musician fashion, lots of people were already there warming up or just hanging out. A violinist was practicing from an etude book across the room. Two drummers were throwing sticks at each other. A flutist chatted with the oboe sitting next to him. A girl at the piano near the podium cracked her fingers and began to play.  
  
It was a slow, twelve bar blues pattern, which she used as a base for improvisation. I watched her as her fingers moved over the keys, managing to hit the right bit of ivory every time despite her lack of sheet music. She was quite pretty-she looked sort of Indian or south Asian in descent- and she was really short, but she didn't look like an underclassmen. I hoped she was in my grade-at this point the only junior I knew was Rogue, and while she was nice once you got to know her, she wasn't the most outgoing and helpful person.  
  
I found the key she was playing in and began to play along, plucking the strings of my cello to form a base line. After awhile, she nodded at me and backed off her solo to let me have the lead.  
  
I don't generally solo much on cello, it being a classical instrument and all, so I was a little tentative. Honestly, I wouldn't've normally taken the solo, except, well, you know...I wanted to impress her. I didn't get to play for long, though, because the director soon stepped onto the podium and actually began rehearsal. I watched the pianist get up to go to her own section, and was frankly thrilled when she picked up a cello and sat right behind me.  
  
"Cello's an interesting instrument to play the blues on, you know." She was whispering in my ear. It was going to be a good first day of school.  
  
"I learned bass so I could play in my friend's jazz combo in my old school," I told her. "They had everything but a bassist, and I got roped into it because I could actually read bass clef."  
  
"Hey, that's how I got stuck on cello."  
  
"You got forced into playing cello so you could join a jazz band?" I said in mock surprise. "Damnit, I was hoping to be the first jazz cellist in the nation."  
  
"My parents play violin and viola-they made my sister and me learn violin and cello so we could form a family string quartet. I don't mind playing cello, it's just that my parents can be so pitifully nerdy." Now I was laughing. Fortunately, the director had just made a joke or something, because a bunch of other people were laughing too.  
  
"If it makes you feel any better," I told her, "my dad makes my sister and me wear 'Zander McAllister-Working for You' t-shirts whenever we travel in his district-even if it's not a campaign year."  
  
Before she could respond, we were cut off by the director. "You must be Alexander, our new student." I looked up at him guiltily. His voice was calm, but he didn't look too pleased to meet me.  
  
He motioned for me to stand up. "Everybody, I'd like you to welcome Alexander, who will be joining the cello section this year." There was a weak chorus of greetings coming from around the room as he continued. "As Mr. McAllister has come from an accomplished orchestra at his old school in Washington DC, he no doubt knows that one should remain quiet when the director is talking. Am I correct, Alexander?"  
  
Oh great-it was first period, and I'd already managed to get on the bad side of my orchestra director. I honestly wouldn't care if this were chemistry or something, but I actually liked orchestra. I meekly nodded in agreement, hoping this would appease him.  
  
"As for you, Miss Singh, you should know better. This is your third year in my orchestra, and it's not the first time I've had to remind you of rehearsal etiquette." She too nodded and stared at the floor until he moved on to passing out music.  
  
I sat down and didn't talk to her for the rest of the period, for fear I'd get brought to attention again. I would've waited for her after class, but I had to figure out how to get to second period as soon as possible. I hurried down the hallway, my nose buried in my map of the school.  
  
"Hey, Alexander!" A voice called out down the crowded hallway. It took me a minute to figure out it was for me.  
  
"Alexander, I'm glad I found you before you left." Miss Singh was standing in front of me, holding her books in her arms. "I'm sorry I made Dr. Pavletski pick on you-he rather enjoys tormenting new kids."  
  
"Hey, it's no problem," I told her. I wasn't thrilled about sitting in front of a bitter orchestra director, but it really wasn't her fault. There was an awkward pause in the conversation. I think having gone to an all boys school my entire life has made me suck royally at chatting with girls, particularly hot girls.  
  
Fortunately, she broke the silence. "I'm Anita, by the way."  
  
Ooh, she has a name, I thought. I held out my hand to shake her extended one. "Call me Alex," I told her. "I honestly can't stand Alexander-it makes me feel like my grandfather."  
  
She laughed-a good sign, I thought. Hmm.maybe I could get her to show me where my next class is.  
  
"Hey, do you know where room 109-A is? I've got American history and government there in two minutes." I held up the map to see if she wanted it, but she jumped right in with,  
  
"Oh yeah, I'm in that class too. Come on-it's right this way." She headed off into the crowd and I tried to keep up with her. She was so short that every time I lost her, I had to scan through the crowd to find her, but I invariably ran into someone in the process.  
  
After two flights of stairs and about a million collisions, I found room 109-A (nestled between 107-A and 116-B. No wonder the map didn't make any sense) and settled into a seat that was fortunately next to Anita, but unfortunately in the front row.  
  
While everyone else sat down and waited for Mr. Biddle to come in, Anita told, or rather warned, me about our teacher.  
  
"He hates underclassmen-they live in fear of him. I remember once he subbed for my freshman history class, and we spent the entire period cowering silently while he graded papers."  
  
"Oh, great," I told her, "now I'm dying to meet him."  
  
"He is pretty scary-but, you know, we're juniors now. The inherent hatred is gone. You have to earn his hate now. Whatever you do, though, don't-"  
  
Unfortunately for me, Mr. Biddle chose that moment to walk into the room.  
  
Well not exactly walk, more like burst.  
  
"Now y'all sit down and be quiet" was all we got before he headed for the board and began writing. He was a big man-big and southern. In fact, he had a southern accent that reminded me of Foghorn Leghorn, you know, that big rooster on Looney Tunes? I half expected him to turn to me and say, "Now what, Ah say what is your name?"  
  
Fortunately, he didn't. He kept writing on the board. At first I thought it was a list of people in the class, but the names looked so familiar. I scanned the list again; Atterbury, Flores, Greenberg, Lynch, McClure, Soportski, there were about thirty of them.  
  
"Welcome to American History and Government. Y'all should know me, if not as Mr. Biddle, then as that teacher who yelled at y'all when y'all were just little freshman." He laughed to himself and the rest of the class looked a bit uneasy. He must have a scarring effect on underclassmen.  
  
"Now, y'all are gonna reap the benefits of taking this class in an election year," he had finished writing on the board and was now facing us. "Does anyone know what this list is?"  
  
It hit me. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "It's a list of congressmen who're facing serious opposition in their reelection campaigns this fall." I knew this list because I'd seen it countless times around the house. My father was on this list.  
  
Mr. Biddle didn't seem too pleased with my speaking out of turn. He glared at me over his reading glasses. "And who, Ah say who, might you be?"  
  
I gulped. "Alex, sir. Alex McAllister. I'm a new student" I hesitated giving him my last name, but I figured making him ask for it would just anger him more.  
  
"Well, since you're new, I'm not gonna yell at ya, but be warned. Ya speak out in mah class, you just might get an eraser thrown at ya." He took aim with one of those really long ones, but didn't throw it.  
  
"Yes sir," I replied. Hopefully, this wouldn't go any farther.  
  
He chuckled to himself and looked at the whole class. "Now young Alex here is right; so we're gonna divide up into pairs and y'all are gonna make a quarter-long project of following these representatives." I looked to Anita to see if she'd be my partner, and she nodded-"score!" I thought, "This day is looking better and better."-while Mr. Biddle passed around handouts with our designated representative and the first assignment on it.  
  
"First assignment's due next week," she said to me as we walked out of class, "do you want to meet this weekend and discuss....." she looked at the handout again, "Rep. Soportski?"  
  
"Sure," I said. I paused before I went on, hoping this would go well. "Is Friday night ok?"  
  
She looked at me and smiled. "Would St. Rita's Pizza be ok?"  
  
"At eight?" It was going quite fine.  
  
"I'll see you there."  
  
Woohoo! It was 10 AM on the first day of school, and I had a date.  
  
It was a beautiful day.  
  
-------  
  
Author's Note: So I lied, so I didn't have this chapter already written. And I didn't include the part with Mystique, but it's all good, or at least I hope it is.  
  
Risty: yeah, I forgot about that whole Scott/Rogue thing. I think I will just add it to the list of his powers. Alex McAllister: X-ray vision, sees in the dark, exceptional preppiness.  
  
I was actually thinking of all the exceptionally preppy boys that go the exceptionally preppy boy's school that Alex's school in DC is sort of based on. Let's just say that if Scott looks like a Gap model, boys at this school look like they own Banana Republic.  
  
Anyway, thanks for reviewing  
  
And thanks to anyone else who read  
  
Feedback is appreciated  
  
I do intend to finish this story. It has a plot all planned out and everything-I just have a lot of other stuff to do right now, so it'll take a while  
  
Adios  
  
hnh 


	7. Talking over Dinner

Chapter 7- Dinners  
  
...................  
  
St. Rita's Pizza turned out to be in a converted church (which would explain the name-I must admit, I was a bit confused there). Anita was already waiting out front when I got there, so we immediately went in and got a booth in the back of the choir loft.  
  
"Sorry I was late," I told her as we sat down. "I had to fight three people for the bathroom." I wasn't kidding-Kurt, Ray and I had had a full- powers brawl in the hallway while we were trying to get Scott to come out of the bathroom.  
  
"Lots of siblings?" she asked me. I forgot I hadn't told her I lived at the X mansion.  
  
"Uh, no...I go to the Xavier Institute. I share a bathroom with eight other guys. It isn't pretty when someone's got a date."  
  
She laughed. Good. "And I thought I had it bad with a fourteen-year-old sister," she said.  
  
"Hey, I've got one of those at home," I told her. "I know how you feel."  
  
We chatted on for awhile longer. We actually hadn't talked all that much since the first day of school, since our two classes together were not exactly well-suited for chatting, and I pretty much exclusively ate lunch with my fellow X-Men.  
  
"So you go to the Xavier Institute," she said after some minor small talk. "I've always wondered what goes on over there. Rumor has it, you're all in training to be secret weapons for the CIA or something."  
  
I laughed uneasily. I could tell she was joking, but it was a little close to home. Rather than make something up, I decided to change directions.  
  
"Well, you know, rumor has it, Paul McCartney's dead. So how about that project? We should probably talk a bit about Soportski."  
  
She looked a little miffed, but I figure it was better than, you know, accidentally blowing the cover of the X-Men while trying to impress some girl. Conversation is not my strong point.  
  
"Yeah, well the only thing I know about him is that he's a Republican from Ohio and his email is rep.soportski@mail.house.gov." She passed me a printout of his website, while I tried to recall anything I could about T. C. Soportski.  
  
"Let's see...I've met him before-he's kind of patronizing to teenagers. Uh, he sucks royally at poker, he drives a Porsche, which I'm betting he used campaign funds to buy, and, ooh! He keeps a mistress in town, which everybody but his wife knew about. She just found out, which is why he's got such slim chances of reelection. His family values campaign spiel doesn't quite work this time around."  
  
"When did you meet him?" she asked. I think she wasn't expecting such random facts.  
  
"Well, my dad hosts the House poker night, and sometimes he comes, which is where I met him and saw the Porsche. His mistress is common knowledge--she sometimes attends official House functions."  
  
"Wait, so is your dad a representative too?"  
  
I shifted awkwardly in my seat. "Yeah. He is."  
  
A look of realization spread across her face. "Is he the same McAllister that Tania and Jeremy got assigned in class?"  
  
"Yeah. It is."  
  
"Oh, wow, that must be weird."  
  
"Yeah. It is."  
  
There was an awkward silence. Fortunately for us, the pizza came at that moment.  
  
..........  
  
I was glad when the food came because then the silence wouldn't seem so awkward. I had had high hopes for this evening.  
  
I must admit, really liked him. On top of being cute, and a good cellist, we seemed to have an easy flow of conversation.  
  
At least I thought we did until tonight.  
  
At this point, he had put down his slice of pizza and was thinking to himself. Well, I thought he was thinking to himself, but I couldn't tell because of the glasses. Why did he wear them all the time?  
  
He took a sip of Pepsi. "You know," he said, "I'm sorry if I got kind of weird about my dad-it just kind of sucks to be the son of a politician. I can't do anything because it might make him look bad. Had he anything to do with my school schedule, he'd probably have pulled me out of classes to help him campaign in Washington, because he looks better when he's got his family around him."  
  
Ah, weird father-son relationship. "I can relate-my dad got rejected from a lot of orchestras when he was trying to make it as a professional musician, and he is convinced it's because he's Indian, so to make it right, he's decided that I'm going to Julliard, and then to the BSO, or maybe the New York Philharmonic-so I can be closer to home."  
  
"Wow, that sucks." Good, we're getting back to normal conversation. "I got told to go back to China when I was in lower school, but that doesn't mean I'd put my kids through the same school just to make me feel any better."  
  
"You're Chinese?" I didn't know he was Chinese. He doesn't look Chinese. Well, except maybe for his eyes, but I couldn't see his eyes.  
  
"Actually, I'm half Japanese, but it didn't make much of a difference to them. It's impressive how dumb people can be, especially kids."  
  
"Yeah, when I was ten, I had some girl ask me if I was in an arranged marriage in India. Honestly, I've never even been to India."  
  
The conversation went easily then. We spent the rest of the night covering everything from childhood TV shows (he was a Loony Tunes fan, I went for My Little Ponies reruns) to favorite types of rosin (we both use Hill brand- and we think it's really cool. We are such geeks).  
  
We didn't leave the restaurant until out waiter was about to kick us out. Even then, we lingered on the sidewalk. He wrapped his arm around me as we walked down the block to my car.  
  
It was a comfortable silence between us as we walked. When we reached the car, however, I felt the need to say something.  
  
"It's been a really good evening. We should, you know."  
  
"Do this again?"  
  
I nodded, glad he'd finished the sentence for me. I don't normally put up with all of that gender roles crap, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to ask him out.  
  
There was another silence as I opened my car door. I really didn't want to get in. I looked up at him, hoping to tell if I was going to get a parting kiss, but all I saw was my reflection in his glasses.  
  
"Um, Anita?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Can I...uh...kiss you goodnight?"  
  
Well, that was unorthodox, but I have to admit, it was kind of cute. I could tell he was embarrassed to ask, but I wasn't about to turn him down.  
  
"Of course." I felt him lean in and kiss me.  
  
Oh what a night.  
  
.........................  
  
"So what exactly do you want me to do here?"  
  
Raven tensed. I could tell I was frustrating her.  
  
"Leak it to his staff. Leak it to the press. Leak it to his opponent. Hell, rent a billboard in Time Square if you think that'll be more effective. I don't care what you do, just make sure it cripples him."  
  
I stared at my coffee and poked at the tiramisu. It was getting late; the restaurant was beginning to empty out and our waiter looked impatient to hand us the bill. I sure as hell wasn't asking for it-no way I was paying for a dinner when she had asked me to come. I could be at home watching Iron Chef.  
  
I was here because she'd once gotten me out of a sticky situation involving some E, a bunch of associates, and a very angry dealer. Shapeshifting and kickass marital arts skills come in handy when you're fighting off a dealer and his thugs. It was now my turn to return the favor. This time, though, I'd get to create her mess, not get her out of it.  
  
I deal in information, see, and this kind of thing was like a wet dream to me. She didn't just have a single rumor, she had enough information to create whole feature articles in the Times, not to mention years of fuel for the tabloid industry.  
  
I could see it now. "MRA Top Legislator has Mutant for Son." I was thinking New York Times, but the Washington Post would also work-since it was more of a local story than a national one. Not for long.  
  
Still, subtlety was key here. Step One was mere uneasiness. He had to be on edge, and then maybe I wouldn't have to leak anything-he'd let it all out himself.  
  
Those are the best kinds, the ones that dig their own graves.  
  
"Meyer, Meyer are you listening to me?"  
  
I pulled myself out of my thoughts and back to Raven. She had the check in her hands.  
  
"I left my credit cards at home, could you pick this up for me?"  
  
I sighed and got my wallet out.  
  
..................  
  
I was home alone again tonight. It was times like these when I really missed Alex. When Dad was at a late committee meeting, we'd make our own dinner, and not some crap TV dinner either, but a dinner from scratch. I still did it myself a lot, but it's not so much fun cooking for one.  
  
Tonight, it was chicken pot pie. I was putting the crust in the oven when the phone rang.  
  
"Hello, this is Nora McAllister speaking."  
  
"Is your father home?"  
  
That was a weird question. Most people who would want to talk to him know that he's got Ways and Means on Tuesday nights. Otherwise, they're a telemarketer, and you can tell those because they ask for Alexander.  
  
"I'm sorry, he's unavailable right now. Can I take a message?"  
  
There was a long pause, and then, "yeah, just tell him I know," and then he hung up.  
  
How odd. I found a post-it note and scribbled "someone called to say 'he knows,'" but I couldn't get it out of my mind. It was probably something about a bill--politicians often talked in incoherent, fragmented speech. I think they liked to make out that they were too busy to for complete sentences.  
  
But the guy on the phone had that kind of creepy do-you-like-scary-movies- type voice, not the voice of some overworked office aid. And he sounded like he knew something he shouldn't know.  
  
What would Dad not want anyone to know?  
  
Alex. Dad was deathly afraid of Alex. We barely even talked about him now- -it was like I was suddenly an only child or something.  
  
He was even more afraid of someone finding out about Alex. But who would know?  
  
I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind, as my crust was about to burn.  
  
..........  
  
so the word is spreading. Who will be safe? Find out next time on Alex: the story with the crappy title.  
  
Seriously, I need a better title, but I suck at coming up with them. If you've got any suggestions, please share.  
  
I've also realized that I need a codename of sorts for Alex, and a party for Zander. I'm thinking Democrat, not because I don't like them (well, actually, I'm rather embarrassed by my proclaimed party, but that's another story) but because it could happen, and I haven't seen it yet. If you have any comments, questions, or random facts (I collect random facts) please share. You can even email me now, as I have my email up on my profile.  
  
And now for some thank-yous:  
  
Risty: What can I say? I write what I know. (seriously-the last guy I stalked, I mean dated, I knew from Honor Band. We were about as nerdy as it got without being the band camp kids in "American Pie.")  
  
Psychobunny410: yeah, I checked out your story, and 'tis cool.  
  
Jedi Master Ry-On: Thanks, don't mind if I do.  
  
Shapeshifter: I'm glad to see my crap title actually got someone to read my stuff.  
  
Alinora: Yeah, it can be confusing sometimes. I still haven't seen the most recent episodes as I am usually asleep on Saturday mornings, and sleep is to be prized above all other things. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with Mystique in the future. I like her as well, but I have trouble writing her-she comes off as a tad psychotic in Evo if you ask me. I think that's because I haven't seen many of the Mystique-heavy episodes.  
  
Neva: Thanks for the feedback. It means a lot to me to get comments, especially from a writer such as yourself. 


	8. Meanwhile

Chapter 8-Meanwhile...  
  
Disclaimer-I don't own the X-Men, but I have started a letter writing campaign asking for them for my birthday.  
  
Well, I haven't exactly started said campaign, but I will at some point.  
  
Oh forget it. I don't own them, and short of some act of God, gods, or lack thereof (whichever you prefer), I never will.  
  
I should also state that I own Zander, Alex, and Nora McAllister, Anita and her family, and that no congressperson depicted in this story is based on an actual politician. I may hate a number of them enough to stick them in here and bash them relentlessly, but sadly, I don't know enough about any of them for it to be good, and it's so much more fun to make fun of someone when you actually know what they're talking about.  
  
On with the story. ........  
  
"Jeremy, Tania, y'all are next."  
  
Mr. Biddle shuffled some papers and leaned back in his chair as Tania and Jeremy got up to give their report. This was our second assignment; November fourth was approaching, so each group had to discuss their candidate's campaign strategy. Lucky for me, the class had not guessed the obvious yet, but for all I knew, this could be their lucky day.  
  
"As stated previously, Jeremy and I have been assigned Zander McAllister, a Democrat from central Washington. He's been out there campaigning since the beginning of October, and will probably stay there until election day."  
  
"Uh, yeah." Jeremy added. I had a feeling he was not the most involved of project partners.  
  
Tania kept going. "His opponent, Maryellen Hodges, a moderate Republican, has been a vocal critic of his policies since he was first elected to Congress eight years ago."  
  
Vocal critic. That's a nice way of putting "psychotic stalker." She once led a protest outside of our house in Washington when my dad was running for county board of supervisors; under her leadership, they turned rowdy and bashed in the windows of our car. It was a county wide election for God's sake, not a presidential race.  
  
"They're both pretty middle-of-the-road, so this isn't a campaign about issues; it's a popularity contest."  
  
"Yeah, McAllister might as well be a Republican," added the ever-helpful Jeremy.  
  
Tania gave a "see what I have to work with?" look to Mr. Biddle and kept going. "Hodges is trying to present herself as a fresh face in politics ("Damn straight," I thought. "She couldn't even get a leadership position on the PTA board.") and is attacking McAllister's voting record. His campaign consists mainly of stating all the good things he's done for the area over the bad, such as expanded irrigation and relaxed farm pollution standards, and showing that he'll be as tough in DC as he's ever been."  
  
Jeremy was moving to get up the poster they'd made outlining the major campaign events when Mr. Biddle proposed a question.  
  
"Now why is he not promoting a family issues campaign as he has in the past?"  
  
I knew why. It's because his son's a mutie, that's why.  
  
Fortunately for me, Jeremy and Tania didn't know the answer. Unfortunately, Mr. Biddle decided to help them along.  
  
"He's got two kids, doesn't he? Where are they?"  
  
Jeremy started looking through his book, and Tania was frantically flipping through her note cards. "Well, his daughter's in high school in DC, and his son."  
  
I sank lower in my chair. Anita gave me a look of sympathy.  
  
"Boards at a private institute in New York." Mr. Biddle so kindly finished for her. "That right, McAllister?" His loud, southern voice rang through the classroom.  
  
The entire room turned to look at me. Had I gone any lower in my chair, I would have been in danger of falling out. A look of recognition dawned on everyone's face--even Jeremy's--as I meekly nodded. Whispers started around the room. I'm just glad I don't have extra-sensitive hearing like Rahne.  
  
After class, Mr. Biddle took me aside.  
  
"Sorry for bringing it up that way, kid. If I'd known you were a little McAllister when we started this project, I would've given his name to someone in another class."  
  
"It's OK," I told him. Honestly, what else was I going to say?  
  
"Well, then, I hope you don't mind that I don't cut y'all any slack. In fact, I expect an even more detailed project from you and Anita, since you probably know T. C. Soportski personally."  
  
"Um...OK." I appeared to have lost my faculty for coherent speech.  
  
I quickly gathered up my books and ran for the door.  
  
................  
  
Dad's always been a little obsessed with reelection, even in years he hasn't had any competition, so I was a bit worried about him this time around. Maryellen Hodges is a total bitch, and some of her negative campaigning has led to nasty letters and death threats for my father. He went out to Washington in early October, and he only comes home when there's a really important vote scheduled. Even when he's home, though, he's always on the phone with his campaign advisor. I think he's got his eye on the Senate when our current senators retire, so he's making the best out of every campaign opportunity he has.  
  
After he's gone for awhile, it's really weird to have him around. Granted, I'm usually at school and then soccer practice, but to come home to him with his cell phone plastered to his face, saying things like, "I don't care what you say, Mitch. I'll kiss plenty of babies next week--I have to be here to vote!" was really weird.  
  
Maybe I never really paid attention to him in election season before, but I think he's gotten much jumpier this time around. The creepy phone calls were still coming; they were always from the same guy, and though he never specified exactly what he "knew," I figured it was about Alex. Nothing else could put Dad on edge as much.  
  
I think he's genuinely afraid of word getting out, especially right before the election. I know he's got some sort of backup plan in case it does get out, but I know he just wants the whole thing to go away.  
  
Don't we all want it to go away? I mean, come on, I love Alex no matter what he is, but it would be so much easier if he weren't a mutant. It'd be so nice to have my big brother back at home, to never see my father start twitching at the sound of his name. Hell, I'd just be happy to stop dodging the questions at school. Seriously--his ex-girlfriend is on the soccer team with me, and she won't stop asking where he is.  
  
I just want us to be together again.  
  
...............  
  
Sorry, folks. This is just a filler chapter. There were a few things I had to put in before the news breaks. I originally had them incorporated with the next chapter, but it was getting long and didn't flow nicely, so I hope you had a nice time with Alex and Nora, and you'll get more shortly.  
  
I'll post the next chapter tomorrow, with review comments and such.  
  
Auf Wiedersehen (lets hear it for German 105!)  
  
hnh 


	9. Out With It

Chapter 9: Out With It  
  
I promised you it'd be up soon, now didn't I?  
  
Disclaimer:  
  
Me: I don't own the X-Men, but I do own Alex.  
  
Alex: Who says you do? Nobody owns Alex McAllister!  
  
Me: Yes I do. I created you, remember?  
  
Alex: Point taken.  
  
.......  
  
"Anita, what's Alex's full name?"  
  
It was a weird question to ask your daughter when she's late for school, but I answered it anyway. "Alexander McAllister. Why do you ask?"  
  
She looked like she was going to faint. Screw getting to orchestra on time. "Mom, are you ok?"  
  
She sat down at the kitchen table and reached for the newspaper. "I'm fine," she said. "But I think you need to look at this."  
  
She handed me the New York Times. "Head Legislator of MRA has Mutant for Son," it read. Right beneath the headline, there was a photograph of a man I assumed to be Alex's father, and below that, a long column of text.  
  
SEATTLE Oct. 14: The Mutant Registration Act suffered a setback today as the lead legislator, Rep. Zander McAllister (D-WA) admitted that his son is a mutant.  
  
Rep. McAllister told the public this afternoon on CNN after coming under attack for appearing insensitive to the families of mutants.  
  
"The parents of mutants are just as scared as the rest of the public," he told his critics, "I know the pain and confusion they are going through because my own son, Alex, is a mutant. It's not something we can ignore; mutant registration is a subject that touches all of us. I vow here and now that if my bill passes, Alex will be among the first mutants to be registered."  
  
I had to stop there; it was too much. I put the paper down, grabbed my keys, and headed to school.  
  
I don't actually know how I got to school that day. All I know is that I sat in my parking space for a good fifteen minutes before I could even get together and go into the building.  
  
Mutant. I'd never really even thought about them. It was one of those things you knew about, but didn't think it applied to you. Come on, it's Bayville, for crying out loud. We don't even have homeless people, much less gangs, drug rings, or mutants. They robbed banks in the city and destroyed whole building blocks of Chicago.  
  
I heard once that three muties were responsible for the last big earthquake in LA.  
  
Listen to me. This is ALEX we're talking about. He's yet to attack me, rape, me, or cause an earthquake in my presence, so why should I be so afraid of him now?  
  
But what if his mutation wasn't like that? What if he could walk through walls, or read minds? I shuddered to think of all the thoughts I'd had in his presence that I would prefer remain mine alone.  
  
What about those glasses he always wears? Maybe he has really freaky eyes. It's all just so weird.  
  
I glanced at my clock. 7:59. It was time to go whether I like it or not. I grabbed my stuff and headed for the building.  
  
........  
  
"Hey, do you have the bowing for the Verdi at rehearsal G?" I asked Anita. She was my stand partner, after all, but all she did was stare at her end pin and shake her head.  
  
The day just got weirder and weirder. I saw Tania and her group of academic overachievers whispering whenever I passed them in the hall, and Mr. Biddle flat-out refused to call on me in class, even when I was the only one raising my hand. Ms. Waterstein, my English teacher, suddenly redid our assigned seating, except I noticed that I was one of the few people to move. I went from front and center to the back corner, in Rogue's favorite spot.  
  
I made it through my morning classes and was relieved to join my X Men friends for lunch. They were pretty much the only people I'd seen today that weren't looking at me oddly. Honestly-it was like that dream where you come to school naked and everyone just stares at you, except last I checked, I definitely was wearing pants.  
  
I was on my way to the usual table when it hit me, and by "it" I mean a carton of chocolate milk, and by "me" I mean the back of my head.  
  
I whipped around and promptly saw through the cafeteria wall and into the parking lot.  
  
A ketchup-covered hamburger join the milk.  
  
I squinted to bring my vision back to the foreground and finally found my attackers. Duncan Matthews, a guy I knew only because he was leading our football team to states, was standing on a table, flanked by a bevy of football players. I noticed Jeremy from gov class among the crowd.  
  
Duncan threw his ice cream sandwich, but I managed to duck this time.  
  
"What was that for?" Seriously, I had no clue. Duncan's targets usually included people whose names he knew.  
  
"You know what it's for, mutie." There was a collective gasp from the entirety of Bayville High, including myself. "We don't want your kind here."  
  
I was at a loss of words. Honestly, what does one say to that, even if it is true? I struggled to come up with a better reply than "your mom," but Jean interrupted my thoughts.  
  
*Alex, do you want me to try and wipe them? It's worth a shot.*  
  
*Holy shit, Jean, there's 1600 of them. Just give me a second.*  
  
I don't know what I was going to use that second for, but hey, lucky me. I didn't have to come up with what to do next, because Jeremy was holding up a newspaper and passing around fliers.  
  
"Read it, mutie. The whole world knows." He shoved the paper in my face. There it was in the New York Times: "Head Legislator of MRA has Mutant for Son." A file photo of my dad stared back at me.  
  
So much for a mind wipe.  
  
I looked at the other X Men. Scott had his hands on his glasses, ready to blast the crap out of anyone who came near. Bobby was breathing frost. Jean had her hands on her temples.  
  
One nod, and they'd kick some serious ass.  
  
One nod, and I wouldn't be the only one exposed today.  
  
I couldn't let them do that. I shook my head and they backed off. I knew that if I actually were attacked, they'd still fight.  
  
Duncan jumped down from his table and ran for me. I managed to duck his punch and throw a few more before he hit the ground.  
  
Apparently Wolverine's self-defense classes are useful.  
  
Duncan's friends had been passing around sheets of paper, but when they heard him fall, they came running.  
  
That's when I was glad that I was St. Asaph's top sprinter in winter track last year. I bolted through the doors and headed for the street. I was about two blocks away when Scott pulled up beside me.  
  
"Come on, we're going home."  
  
..............  
  
Again, short, but there you go. The truth is out, and things are not looking good for our young Mr. McAllister. Next chapter: reactions, by many people. If you want to see a particular point of view, please share, because I'm open to ideas.  
  
I'm also still taking new story titles since I still hate this one, and code names for Alex, though I might just have him go code nameless. Jean does it, why can't he?  
  
And now for some reader comments:  
  
ManniElf18: I'm not sure, but I'm thinking he lives in McLean area-one of those hideously large McMansions out in the woods next door to the Saudi royal family. His school is modeled on St. Albans, because honestly, who likes Stalbans? Now granted, I went to a snooty prep school, but even we made fun of Stalbans boys. Alex ended up in the hospital at the when he hit a tree at the end of Ch. 2. I explained it somewhere in Ch. 3, but I guess it's not clear. Thanks for bringing it to my attention. You may have a cookie, but be aware that there is some assembly required.  
  
Neva: Thanks for the suggestions. I don't really know what I want but I'll keep them in mind.  
  
Risty: Yeah, I wish I had a guy as nice as Alex. I guess it's some sort of wish fulfillment. Who knows--you're the psych scholar. I don't actually know any cellist that well, but let me tell you, musicians are weird. Especially percussionists--stay away from the percussionists.  
  
Psychobunny410: I hope you remembered his power in this chapter-it does come up.  
  
Fateema: Thanks, happy reading.  
  
shelly: your wish has been granted.  
  
Lellida: Thanks-that part was especially fun to write.  
  
So, happy reading, and even happier reviewing.  
  
Toodles,  
  
hnh 


	10. What Now?

Chapter 10: What Now?  
  
Author's Note: I'm sorry, I have been rather slow in my writing. What follows is the first of two chapters (the next one will be posted soon) that I just felt I had to write together. So be prepared for lots of...well..writing.  
  
Disclaimer: I got nothin'  
  
.............  
  
When you're a leader, you try to keep everything under control, but sometimes you just lose it.  
  
This was one of those times.  
  
I watched as my teammate and friend was publicly exposed and humiliated at lunch today and there was nothing I could do. I would have given anything to save him from such a situation, including being outed myself. If it would have done something, I would have blasted every guy wearing a football letter jacket off the face of the earth.  
  
But there was nothing I could do.  
  
I did manage to catch him as he ran toward the street. He looked so sad, huddled up in the front seat, staring at the dashboard. He immediately went up to his room while I went and talked to Professor X.  
  
The Professor already knew what had happened; Jean had told him. I informed him where Alex was, and he told me that I did the right thing, considering the situation.  
  
"There was nothing you could do, Scott," he said.  
  
Damn, I know he means well, but it just makes me feel like shit. What am I doing here if I can't stop stuff like this from happening? What am I doing here at all?  
  
I found myself in the boy's hallway. At this time of day, it was eerily quiet; all I could hear was the hum of the heaters. I walked up to Alex's door and knocked.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
At least he wasn't ignoring me.  
  
"Do you want to talk?"  
  
There was no answer. I took this to mean yes, and so I slowly opened the door.  
  
He was lying on his bed with the lights off and the drapes pulled. His glasses were off; his face was shiny with tears. I shut the door and the room went completely dark.  
  
I would've handed him some tissues and sat next to him, but without any light, all I could do was find a clear spot on the floor.  
  
We sat in silence for a long time. "Do you want to talk" is not a sentence I utter often, so I really didn't know where to go from there. I finally got up the courage to say something.  
  
"I can't imagine what it must be like to be in your situation, but I want you to know that the entire team is there for you." It was a good start.  
  
It got no response, though. I took some more time to figure out what to say next. It was then that he finally spoke.  
  
"My sister's birthday is October 31st and every time he has an election, he has spent it in Washington, giving out Halloween candy in homeless shelters or something. We always got around to celebrating it--after the first Tuesday in November--but it was never the same. Nora and I would pretend to make a cake when we were little, and even light pretend candles and sing 'Happy Birthday' because when you're little, your birthday is the most important day of the year."  
  
So that was the most upsetting part about all of this, that his father outed him on national TV, not the football team incident.  
  
"The past few years, he's been too busy to even call home. His life revolves around reelection." I heard him sigh.  
  
I thought about my parents, what few memories I actually had of them. I was probably not the best person to be in this situation. I have no idea how my parents would've taken the fact that I'm a mutant. I tried to think of how I'd seen other parents take it. Kurt's weren't surprised, but why would they be? Kitty's were in denial. Bobby's parents were scared, Amara's confused, Rahne's just wanted to figure out what was going on.  
  
Mr. McAllister was all of those things, but above all he seemed concerned with his public image. Alex told me he was confined to his house for the whole summer because his dad didn't want him to "be found out," as if people just walk around with mutant detectors. And yet in the end, it was his father that told the world, as a publicity stunt, I suppose. He's become the mutant hater who cares.  
  
I drew my mind back to Alex when I heard him sit up.  
  
"Scott?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"How the hell am I even gonna go back to school?"  
  
I'd been thinking about that. I had no idea how Principal Kelly would respond to this kind of thing. I knew he didn't like mutants, last year's soccer game had been proof enough of that, but now that he actually knew he had one in the school, what was he going to do?  
  
Maybe we could explain that Alex doesn't exactly have dangerous powers. Seeing through walls isn't exactly going to kill anyone, now is it? I just hoped we wouldn't have to keep an angry mob away or something. I've seen the Friends of Humanity protests in the city, they can get quite rowdy when they know there's a mutant around.  
  
I realized I hadn't answered his question.  
  
"I don't know, Alex, but we're going to make sure you'll at least be safe. We're a team, and that means we stand up for one another." It sounded trite, and we both knew it, but what else could I say? I don't know what'll happen.  
  
................  
  
"I just don't know, mutants creep me out."  
  
I have come to the conclusion that life is shit. Not only is the glass half empty, but it's dirty and chipped, and when you drink from it, you're gonna get cut and die.  
  
"But he's still Alex, and while you don't know him, I can vouch for him. He's a perfectly nice guy." I was trying to convince my friend Cooper that mutants aren't bad, scary, weird, or even abnormal. It wasn't going well.  
  
"But look at the way he beat up Duncan. What if he loses it and does it to someone else?"  
  
"I could beat the crap out of you right now, but are you afraid of me?"  
  
"No."  
  
I so desperately wanted to follow with, "I could encase you in ice right now, how about that?" but I had a feeling I might not get the desired response.  
  
"I just don't see what the big deal is. He's not a different person."  
  
"No, that's the problem, Bobby. You just don't' see it. It IS a big deal. I don't know him that well, and now there's this unknown factor. What if he suffers from uncontrollable rage or something? He might just lose it one day and take it all out on us."  
  
I sighed and turned to my other friends. "Come on you guys, this is not that big of a deal."  
  
The only person I got a positive response out of was Jubilee.  
  
Well, duh, of course she agreed with me. You'd think we would hang out with some more mutant-friendly people, though. I shuddered when I thought what Cooper and co. would do if they knew they were friends with not one, but two mutants.  
  
The rest of them all just shrugged as the bell rang for the last class. We all went off in our separate directions, except for my friend Greg, who was in my English class.  
  
I was a little peeved with my friends' response to the whole mutant thing, so I didn't talk much as we got to class. Greg was pondering something, so he didn't notice really. We were waiting for our teacher to arrive when he finally spoke up.  
  
"So it, like, doesn't bother you at all that he's a mutant?"  
  
I thought we'd been through this, but hey, why shouldn't we at least restate the obvious? "Not a bit," I said, sounding quite frustrated. "He's no different than he was yesterday."  
  
Greg was silent for awhile, and then he said, "but what if one of your friends--"  
  
"Alex IS one of my friends." How hard was this to get?  
  
"Yeah, I know, but I mean one of our friends, like Annie or Cooper or Jubilee or me or something, what if one of us was a mutant?"  
  
"It still wouldn't matter." I could tell he was really hung up on this. "Look, Greg, whether or not someone's a mutant is not something they can control, it may affect what they look like, or what they can do, but it doesn't change who they are. If you turned to me right now and said, "Bobby, I'm a mutant," I wouldn't care because you're still the same person you were five minutes ago. You'd still be the same Greg Anderson who wants to be a molecular biologist, has had a crush on Annie Wilkins since the third grade, and who I thought was the coolest kid in school when I met you last year because your dad has a box for the Yankees games."  
  
That actually got through to him, I think. He nodded and seemed to be fine with that answer, but we didn't get to talk because the teacher came in right after that.  
  
.........  
  
My best friend Katie found me after orchestra and we talked about it. She was more afraid than I was, but I think that was because she doesn't know him as well.  
  
"Just think about how much time you spend alone with him" she said, "what if he just wants to take advantage of you because he thinks you're inferior or something? I read the papers, there are a lot of mutants who think that way."  
  
There are a lot of mutants who think that way; that's what I was worried about.  
  
But then again, why would he even bother to go out with me if he was like that?  
  
It was all so confusing.  
  
I'd like to think of myself as a tolerant person. As a member of a minority group, I've been treated with, well if not outright discrimination then blatant ignorance by more than a few people, and I'd prefer to stop perpetuating that kind of situation. My group of friends might as well be on a "diversity is good" type poster for crying out loud, so why was I obsessing over this?  
  
It was a subject I'd never thought about before. I'd never expected to actually meet a mutant, and now I was dating one. It was a whole new experience for me.  
  
But it's not like I didn't know him, we'd been sort-of-maybe-dating since the beginning of the year, and I liked him fine until now.  
  
Why didn't he tell me?  
  
Well, I know perfectly well why he didn't tell me. His own father wants to fingerprint his kind for the sake of national security, that's why. But still, it's like...well, I can't even describe it. It's just weird.  
  
Was I a ruse to appear normal? Well, he seems pretty normal anyway, so I don't think he needed a human to make him that way. And besides, if he wanted to be "normal," he should be going after someone like Jean Grey, only without the dumb, overprotective jock of a boyfriend.  
  
So I gave up trying to answer the endless questions and tried to concentrate on class while still avoiding contact with him. I don't know why I was avoiding him, but I knew I had no idea what I'd do if we started talking.  
  
And then lunch came, and what was a wild rumor for so many all morning became unavoidable fact. We had a mutant in our midst.  
  
How I made it through afternoon classes is a mystery to me, because not only was I caught up in the whole, "oh my god, it's a mutant," thing, but I had a lot of people going "Anita, you're his girlfriend, did he tell you?"  
  
And then I got to be reminded once again that no, no he did not.  
  
I was on my way to Spanish, (thankfully) the last class of the day, when who should approach me but the ever-so-perfect Ms. Jean Grey. Senior, yearbook editor, star soccer player and all.  
  
"Um...Anita, can I talk to you for a minute?"  
  
I must say I was a tad surprised. I know she's sort of friends with Alex, but she usually hung out with the "popular" crowd.  
  
But hey, it's been a weird day, so why not just add to it?  
  
"Yeah," I said. She lead me down a quieter hallway so it would be easier to talk.  
  
"I'm sure you were shocked to hear that Alex is a mutant."  
  
I make a point not to spill my guts with people I don't know particularly well, so I just nodded, but she certainly got that right.  
  
"I don't expect you to confide in me or anything, but I want you to know that he's still the same Alex you knew before."  
  
I'd been telling myself that all day, and yet somehow it still wasn't making me feel better.  
  
"I know it's not much comfort, but it's true."  
  
She had an uncanny knack for picking up on people's emotions. She needs to run a suicide hotline or something.  
  
"I think he'd be happy to talk to you, and I think it'd be good for you to talk to him. I know that right now, you're probably more confused than anything else, and talking about it would help."  
  
Oh boy, did I want to talk, and I wanted to talk to someone that would reassure me that it was all going to be ok.  
  
Because it was, wasn't it?  
  
I looked at my watch and realized I was going to be late for class. "I have to go," I told her, and started down the hall.  
  
"Here, wait," she said. She handed me a piece of paper with Alex's address and phone number on it. I took it and shoved it in my pocket.  
  
"I'll hopefully see you later" she said, as she walked to her own class.  
  
.............  
  
So that's chapter 10. I'll get to reviews after the next one. For the record, I don't think Jean is on the yearbook committee, and I have no idea how various parents' took the news that their child was a mutant.  
  
Oh, and by the way, I'm looking for a beta reader. If anyone's interested in getting the dirt (and the alternate endings) of Shades of Darkness before anyone else, feel free to email me at musicnerd1685@netscape.net  
  
'Til next time,  
  
hnh 


	11. Discussion

Chapter 11-Discussion.  
  
...........  
  
I almost didn't do it. I walked to my car after Spanish with my mind solely focused on going home and trying to forget the whole thing when I found the paper Jean had given me.  
  
No matter how hard I tried, this wasn't going to go away. I was kind-of- sort-of-maybe his girlfriend (we hadn't quite worked that part out yet, but it was going well), so I couldn't exactly ignore him.  
  
I'd tried talking about it with people, but nobody seemed to understand. I just wanted someone to assure me everything would be ok, but all I got from my friends was that I should dump him for a) being weird, and b) not telling me.  
  
I didn't want to dump him, though. I just wanted to work things out.  
  
I sat in the parking lot for quite some time, trying to decide. I watched everyone around me leave, and then I finally decided that I had to go.  
  
I'd never actually seen the Xavier Institute up close. I pulled up to the gate and a little intercom popped up next to my window.  
  
"Welcome to the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youth. How may I help you?" said the voice from the speaker. There was a lot of noise in the background.  
  
"Um...this is Anita Singh. Can I talk to Alex?"  
  
"Uh, yeah. Hold on." I heard whoever it was cover up his end of the speaker and then some muffled yelling.  
  
"Anita, you can come on in. I'll show you up to his room." That sounded like Jean Grey. The gate opened and I drove up to the house.  
  
Jean opened the door to the gigantic mansion and I stepped into the foyer. I looked around. No Alex, but about ten other people, most of whom I recognized from school, staring at me.  
  
Jean turned and glared at them and most of them left, the rest milling around and watching us as she led me upstairs.  
  
"I told him you were here and that you weren't going to attack him or anything. You're not going to attack him or anything, are you?"  
  
She turned to me and I shook my head.  
  
"Good. We've already started getting hate emails, we don't need attackers in person."  
  
We reached his door. A little plaque said "Messrs. Drake and McAllister-- Crime Fighters Extraordinaire" and had a picture of Alex and his roommate grinning at the camera holding martini glasses and wearing matching black uniforms with a big yellow "X" on the front. It must be some inside joke.  
  
She smiled at me and headed down the hallway. I knocked and then reached for the handle.  
  
The room was completely dark when I opened the door. I reached for a light switch.  
  
"Don't turn on the lights. Give me a minute."  
  
I waited, trying to find him in the dark room. I could barely make out his shape, sitting on a bed.  
  
"Ok, now you can turn them on." I flicked the lights on and winced at the brightness of the room. He had gotten up off his bed now, and was just standing there rather awkwardly. Kind of like me. I think neither of us really knew what to say, but I started talking anyway.  
  
"Did I interrupt a nap or something?" I asked.  
  
"Oh, no. It's just that I can only take my glasses off in the dark, and today being like it's been, I really didn't feel like dealing with them."  
  
Okay. That doesn't explain much, but okay. We both continued standing rather awkwardly as there wasn't a whole lot else to do.  
  
I decided to try talking again. "Jean told me you wanted to talk."  
  
"So I hear from Jean. What else did she tell you?"  
  
What was this, the Spanish Inquisition? "She just told me you wanted to talk." I replied.  
  
"So you still have no idea what to expect from me?"  
  
"Should I expect something?" Was he really dangerous? What had I gotten into?  
  
"Well, I could have poor control of my power, which for all you know, could be exceptionally dangerous. I could control fire or create earthquakes or blow things up."  
  
"Do you do any of those?" Now I was getting nervous. Why was I here again?  
  
"Except for losing control, no. And when I do lose control, I tend to run into things rather than blow them up."  
  
"What do you do?"  
  
"I see through solid objects. Ever wonder why I run into people a lot?"  
  
He had a point. I had always passed him off as somewhat absent-minded because of that, but this would also explain it.  
  
"Does wearing those glasses all the time help?"  
  
"That's really more because I see in the dark really well, but my eyes can't adjust to the light."  
  
"What, like your iris doesn't work?"  
  
"I have no irises."  
  
Oh. Well, I didn't expect that. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Do you want to see? Turn off the light, I'll show you."  
  
I tried to picture what this was going to look like, so I wouldn't be completely weirded out, but nothing really came to mind. I hit the light switch and proceeded to see nothing because of the darkness.  
  
I heard some movement from Alex. "Ok," he said, "I'm taking my glasses off, so don't turn on the lights. When your eyes adjust to the room, check this out."  
  
I blinked and watched as my eyes slowly adjusted. Reflective objects appeared first--the doorknob, picture frames, my watch, then light colored things showed up in the darkness. I saw his running shoes on the floor, papers on his desk, his pale skin. I took a few steps toward him and his features became more clearly defined in the shadows. His dark hair blended into the wall behind him, but I could pick out his ears, nose, and mouth.  
  
His eyes remained shrouded in darkness, though. I moved even closer, until I was only a few inches away when I realized that those were his eyes.  
  
I gasped and took a step back. They were almond eyes, a sign of his Japanese heritage, I supposed, but instead of the normal white and brown, or whatever color they would be, they were completely black.  
  
"How did they....."  
  
"We're not sure," he answered, even before I could get the whole question out. "Dr. McCoy said the irises probably atrophied when the mutation started manifesting, and then some sort of enzymatic reaction specific to my body ate away the remaining muscle and sclera--that's the white part."  
  
"So they weren't always like...this?"  
  
"Nope, it started in January, and by last May, I couldn't take off my sunglasses. The Professor and Hank made me these, I can adjust the darkness so I can see in all sorts of light."  
  
"Who's Hank?" I assumed the Professor was Professor Xavier, but this was a name I'd never heard.  
  
"Oh, Dr. McCoy works here. You might have seen him around; he's rather large and blue. He apparently used to teach chem or something at the high school. He's great, if you can figure out all of his obscure literary references."  
  
I definitely didn't remember a blue, furry teacher walking around Bayville, but I did remember a Mr. McCoy who taught chem and quoted Shakespeare.  
  
"Do you mean the Mr. McCoy who taught his classes how to make stink bombs?" I asked. "He was a cool teacher--everyone was mad when he left because he went crazy...and..." The wheels were turning in my head. It hit me.  
  
"Alex, that man is wild. He tried to attack Principal Kelly!"  
  
How could they let him work here? How did they even find him? Last I heard, he was running from the police. I began to search the room for possible escape routes lest he walk in the door.  
  
"Woah, Anita, relax. He's just another mutant, he's working to control his mutation with the Professor. We're all working to keep ourselves under control here."  
  
"What do you mean by, 'we're all'?" I asked. Honestly, how many mutants were here? He took my hand and led me to his bed to sit down before he said anything. I could hear him chuckling to himself in the darkness.  
  
"Anita, the Xavier Institute is for mutants. Everyone here, including the teachers, is a mutant."  
  
I was glad it was dark so he didn't have to see the surprised look on my face. These people that I knew from school--not just Alex, but Jean, Kitty Pryde, Kurt Wagner, they were all in my classes, and they were all mutants. The other students I'd seen when I came into the mansion--they were all mutants too.  
  
..........  
  
Because I had my glasses off, I could see every bit of shock she was going through, even though it probably hadn't occurred to her that I could. The Professor had given me permission to tell her if I felt she could take it. After all, Kurt's girlfriend knew, and she didn't have a problem with it. Then again, Amanda thought the elf boy was quite possibly the cutest thing she'd ever seen, whereas Anita here was still trying to get used to the idea of my being somewhat less than normal.  
  
I could see her staring into her lap, deep in thought. I knew she was trying to sort through what I'd just told her, but I decided to keep going anyway, because the more she knew, the easier it would be to understand.  
  
I told her about the Institute, how we got special help to deal with our powers. How nobody really knew what this place was for. I told her everything that came to mind, about how this was the only place where I didn't live in fear of being discovered and shunned, the only place where I felt comfortable being who I was.  
  
Because that's who I am, and it's not going to change.  
  
Talking to her was like letting an enormous weight off my chest. I'd spent the afternoon curled up on my bed with pretty much every authority figure on the grounds of the Institute approaching me trying to give me some words of comfort, but nobody seemed to have much of an affect. Talking to someone who was, well, human and didn't want to stick my head on a pike gave me hope that people could get over the mutant thing and go on with their lives.  
  
"I understand how weird this is for you," I told her, "but I want you to know that I'm still the same person I was yesterday. It's like when you found out I'm half Japanese," I said, hoping a little humor would break her out of her thoughts, "It's surprising, but I'm still me."  
  
She did laugh, a little. "I think most people would beg to differ, my friend."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
There was a long pause. Longer than I would have liked, but she finally answered.  
  
"Yeah," she said, as she smiled, "but I don't care."  
  
All I had to say was thank God.  
  
..............  
  
So I'm happy Anita doesn't care. For awhile, I thought she was going to take quite some time to bring around. Seriously, these characters seem to have taken on lives of their own...it's like that one-act play whose name I currently have forgotten.  
  
I've had a couple of people asking me what Alex looks like, and while I've been dropping bits and pieces (like the jokes about him resembling Keanu Reeves, Rogue's comment that he looked a bit preppy, being a runner, etc..) but I've intentionally avoided describing him outright. I am of the theory that each reader should sort of create their own image of the character-it's why the movie is never as good as the book. For the record, though, he's average height, in pretty good shape (track team does that) and looks half Japanese, half Caucasian. You decide the rest.  
  
So.onto reviews, because I didn't do those last chapter.  
  
PsychoBunny410: *hangs her head in shame* yeah, it has been quite awhile. I actually write fairly often, but writing while falling asleep is not to be recommended, because then you wake up with pages upon pages of dsfgggggggggggggggggggggggggg and a nifty square pattern on your forehead from falling asleep on the keyboard. And I felt I had to write this chapter and the previous one together.  
  
Neva: Anti-mutant-psycho-wank is a phrase to be remembered. I actually tried to slip it into the Bobby section of ch. 10, but it just didn't fit his character...some day, though, some day. I liked your title suggestion (as you can see)--thanks. I'm also happy you liked the Anita, Bobby and Scott sections. This story just sort of started writing itself in first person, so I decided to stick with it--only then I didn't realize how hard it is to do that straight through.  
  
Risty: I'm glad you liked the two chapters. You might also want to add actors to your list of people not to date, but that's just the techie in me speaking. Mathemeticians? Well, actually now that you mention it...  
  
Fateema: I tried to be more clear in recent chapters (meaning ch. 10)-- honestly, I went back and tried to find instances where I could clarify who was speaking (for awhile, in the Scott section, I didn't identify him for over a page). I've deliberately avoided telling the reader outside of the story what's going on, instead choosing to leave hints. For example, in the Scott section of this ch. 10, I start by saying that he's a leader, and then say he's the one that drove Alex home (which he did in chapter 9- though I don't expect readers to pick up on that because, sadly, it's been 2 months since I updated). Looking back, though I must admit that I don't always drop clues right away. I'll keep working on that. As for Anita's name, I wasn't worried about giving her an Indian first name because it's perfectly common to find people of one ethnic group with a name from outside that culture.  
  
Kitalia: Thanks, I hoped this chapter cleared up the looks thing a bit. 


	12. Why?

Chapter 12: Why?  
  
Disclaimer:  
  
mine: Alexander McAllister and company, a very cool Swiss Army knife that includes 2 screwdrivers, a chisel AND a saw, my dignity (well, mostly)  
  
not mine: any and all X-Men canon characters, a 2005 Toyota Prius, Mr. Darcy...sadly  
  
.......................  
  
As great as it was to know that Anita was fine with who I was, I still couldn't face the thought of going to school the next day. The Professor agreed, and so I found myself sitting in the rec room flipping channels while everyone else was at school. Which is why I had the joy of answering the phone whenever it rang.  
  
One wouldn't expect the student line to ring a whole lot during the school day, but some internet site had gotten a hold of our number, and consequently, I was faced with an abundance of reporters and protesters all wanting to talk to me. All I did was hang up.  
  
After five such calls in twenty minutes, I was about to pull the phone off the receiver, but the next call was listed as Bayville HS on the caller id. I didn't exactly want to talk to them either, but I had a feeling I shouldn't ignore their calls.  
  
"Hello, Xavier Institute for Gifted Youth. How may I help you?"  
  
"Is Alexander McAllister there?" It sounded like one of the school receptionists.  
  
"Um...not really," I lied. "May I take a message?" I didn't really feel like talking to the school receptionist.  
  
"This is Principal Kelly's office calling. We currently have an unexcused absence for Mr. McAllister. Unless he produces a doctor's note, his absence today will result in a suspension."  
  
I rolled my eyes. Was she kidding? People had unexcused absences all time, and I'd never heard of someone getting suspended.  
  
I hung up the phone and went to find Dr. McCoy to forge me a note, and since both Ms. Munroe and Logan were too busy to deliver it, I hopped on my bike and left out a back entrance of the institute so as to avoid the small crowd of anti-mutant protesters at our gates.  
  
Fortunately, I arrived at school during a class, so I didn't run into any students as I made my way to the principal's office. I pushed open the door to the main office room and made my way to the receptionist's desk.  
  
"I've got a note to give to Principal Kelly," I said.  
  
She reached for a pen and a pad of paper. "I can give it to him. What's your name?"  
  
"Alex McAllister."  
  
There was an awkward silence in the room as she stopped all activity and stared at me. If this was going to happen every time someone realized who I was, I'd probably snap in a week.  
  
Then again, that would just prove I was a vicious monster, wouldn't it?  
  
"Principal Kelly told me to send you in if you came yourself." She pointed at a door on the other side of the room, and then watched me like I was a convicted criminal as I walked toward the principal's door and knocked.  
  
I got no answer, so I focused my vision past the door and into the room, where I saw the principal pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. I knocked once more as I opened the door and slipped in. He didn't seem to notice me until the door latched closed.  
  
"How'd you get in here?" he barked.  
  
"Um..." I started, "your door was unlocked, and as there was no one else in here, I assumed--"  
  
"How did you know I was alone?" Was he that stupid?  
  
"Well, if you can't figure out how I did that, we can just ignore the whole thing and go home. Alright?"  
  
"You used your powers, didn't you? You willfully and knowingly invaded my privacy."  
  
I rolled my eyes—not that he could tell—and sighed. "I looked through your door to make sure you weren't meeting with someone else or on the phone or something. Even if you had been with someone else, it's not like I could've heard what you were saying. I don't have sensitive hearing, remember?" His paranoia made me seriously wonder, though. Did he do anything he wouldn't want others to see when he was alone in his office? Disturbing images of the principal jacking off behind his desk filled my mind. Ew.  
  
He paused for a moment, apparently recalculating his argument. When he did speak, it was in a more even tone. I think he'd managed to get control over his fears, more or less.  
  
"Though I'm sure you would argue, Mr. McAllister, that you are not a threat to the school community, your unhesitant use of your powers proves you otherwise. I think it would be appropriate, then, if we suspended—"  
  
"Wait a minute, you can't suspend me because I used my powers. That's like kicking me out because I'm too short or something."  
  
"On the contrary, Mr. McAllister," he was turning red now, but still working on keeping an even voice, "your total disregard for my right to privacy is reason enough for me. If you have no problem with looking into my office, how are we to know you aren't cheating on tests or peeping into the girl's locker room?"  
  
"Oh, and regular students never cheat on tests? I am the least of your worries in that category, sir."  
  
"All I have is your word on that, McAllister, and in your case, it just isn't good enough. I can keep regular students under control, but with mutants, we cannot be so sure." He spat out the word like it was a piece of filth. "I know what you're capable of, and I'm going to go to every length possible to preserve the school community from this threat."  
  
It was worthless arguing with this man; it was time to give up.  
  
"Here's my doctor's note," I said, shoving it into his hand. "At least I won't get suspended for missing school today." I stormed out of his office.  
  
..................  
  
"Why did you do that?" was all I could ask my father when I found out what he had done to Alex. Not that he told me himself. Oh no, that would be too easy for Zander McAllister. I found out while driving to school with my carpool. It was a minor headline, nestled between an announcement about rising oil prices and unrest in the Middle East, but it pretty clearly identified my father as the politician with a mutant son. As soon as the Morning Edition host read it, the car went from that kind of sleepy, inattentive silence to an awkward silence involving a lot of staring. At me.  
  
"What?" I had asked. I think I was hoping the radio had announced something else, like the latest Redskins loss.  
  
"Your brother's a mutant?" So much for pretending it didn't happen. That came from Clare, who wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she knew this was a big deal. Big enough for her to spread it around the whole school by the end of second period.  
  
Sure enough, by lunchtime, every girl in St. Anne's Prep knew that Alex was a mutant, and all I wanted to do was curl up into the fetal position to avoid the endless questions.  
  
After an entire day of "Did you know?" "Is he safe?" and "Is that why he got expelled from St. Asaph's?" I had more than a few questions of my own, which is why I was standing in the middle of my father's office, interrupting his phone call.  
  
"Yeah, hold on Mitch." He turned his chair to face me, his cell phone still plastered to his ear. "Nora, can you please wait until I'm off the phone with my campaign manager? I've got to go back to Washington tomorrow, and I need to clear some stuff up with him before I leave."  
  
I couldn't believe he was doing this, but I knew better than to keep bothering him while he was on the phone. As he wrapped up his conversation about sympathy votes and rising polls, I paced the family room, fuming.  
  
"Nora, honey, I know you're probably upset about--"  
  
"Upset?" I cut him off before he could even get started with his total BS. "I'm surprised you even noticed I'm upset. I'm surprised you even bothered to get off the phone with your campaign manager to see why I'm upset. Honestly, Dad, it's like I don't exist when it's election season."  
  
"Oh come on, honey, I've just got a lot on my plate right now. You know it's a close election and I can't afford to lose this. I'm a public servant; I serve the people of Washington, and because of that we have to make certain sacrifices—"  
  
"Like telling the whole world Alex is a mutant?"  
  
He had to have known it was coming, and yet he still seemed surprised to hear it. He decided to change tactics.  
  
"They knew, Nora. Those crank phone calls we've been getting weren't just bored neighborhood kids, they were from someone who knew what was going on."  
  
"A month of crank phone calls doesn't mean you can go ahead and out him on national TV."  
  
"Would you rather your brother be in the Weekly World News? I've at least spared him from that."  
  
"And stuck him on the front page of the Washington Post! It may be a better paper, but that doesn't save him from knowing that his father destroyed any sense of security and privacy that he could possibly have because it would get him better press coverage." Tears welled up in my eyes and I started to yell, losing any control over the argument that had been fuming in my head all day. "You've boiled him down to a political move, Dad. You're just going to sacrifice him so you can get reelected and pass that stupid bill!"  
  
He didn't have a comeback for that; there was no smooth and easy way to reason away what I'd just said. He seemed to crumple from the inside, his normally confident air fading as he sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands.  
  
He looked defeated, shrunken—like I'd never seen him before. He was always the commanding father figure, the one who'd tuck you into bed at night, but wasn't afraid to ground you for a month, but now, he'd given up. He had frozen on national TV and forced himself into making a career move that had made his kids hate him, and there was nothing he could do; he was stuck. Having lectured us at length on the importance of honesty and openness to the public, he had finally crossed the line, and he knew it. He knew it, and I had a feeling he didn't like it.  
  
.......................  
  
It was really weird, being suspended. Granted, I was not exactly the headmistress's favorite at St. Asaph's, but I'd never been suspended. I was under the impression that, in most places, suspension takes a lot. Here, though, I'd been suspended for opening a door.  
  
It was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard of. What is wrong with schools when people get expelled for being themselves? This was as bad as don't ask, don't tell.  
  
Today was about as fun as yesterday. Why did he have to do this? What on earth could have possessed my father to announce my genes on national television? Wasn't he trying to keep this quiet?  
  
I really needed to vent to someone who would understand me. Bobby would have been the ideal candidate, since he lived with me and consequently couldn't hide in his room. Sadly, though, he was still at school, serving a detention he'd gotten yesterday. Pretty much everyone else was doing work or at sports practice or something; if I wanted to yell at someone about my father, I wasn't going to find them here.  
  
But then there was Nora. My little sister was great for venting sessions. She could put up with an inordinate amount of crap, and due to her wonderful lack of tact, she had no reservations about telling it like it is. She would be perfect.  
  
I picked up the phone and dialed home, hoping that Dad would be at a committee meeting or even better, off campaigning. I may have wanted to talk to my sister badly, but I wanted to avoid our father as much as possible.  
  
"Hello, you've reached the McAllister residence. If you are from any of the following types of organizations: ABC, NBC, CBS or any local affiliates, any and all cable news stations, The Washington Post, Washington Times, Fairfax Journal or any other newspaper, tabloid, or print publication, any and all radio stations, websites, or nosy neighbors, please hang up now."  
  
I stayed on the line, but didn't say anything. It was Nora speaking, but I couldn't tell if it was recorded; my sister liked to change the answering machine a lot. After a few seconds, though, I heard her voice again.  
  
"If you fall into none of these categories, then, hello, Nora McAllister speaking."  
  
"Nora?" Apparently it wasn't a recording.  
  
"Oh my God! Alex!" I held the phone away from my ear to endure her shrieks.  
  
"Ssh! Is Dad there?" I asked. I was pretty sure he would be gone, but I wasn't taking any chances.  
  
"No, he's gone to a party fundraiser. He won't be home until late."  
  
"Thank God. The last thing I need is to talk to him."  
  
"I'm not sure if he'd actually talk about it. I blew up at him yesterday, and he hasn't mentioned it since then."  
  
"Nothing?"  
  
"Um, yeah. Nothing."  
  
I plopped down on the rec room couch and grabbed the remote while we kept talking. "So, how's everything else going?" I asked.  
  
"Ok," she said. I think the events of the last two days had largely drawn her attention away from other things, so coming up with stuff to talk about wasn't exactly easy. "Ooh, our soccer team won our league championship," she finally remembered.  
  
"That's great," I told her while I flipped the TV on. "Is your coach still..."  
  
I trailed off. There, on the high definition, full color, wide screen TV was my father, standing in front of our house, giving a press conference.  
  
"There are people in this world, humans and mutants alike, who mean us harm," he said. "The humans we can deal with; we have locks and alarms to keep us safe. But what can you do about a mutant? We can't know how to protect our communities until we know what the danger is. Wouldn't you want to know if you were living near a telepath? What kind of extra precautions would you take if there were someone who could walk through walls in your neighborhood? The Mutant Registration Act is about protecting the communities and families that have a right to know when there is a possible danger to their safety. I'm not saying that all mutants are a threat to our lives, but we have a right to know what might be a threat out there."  
  
He kept going. I just watched, open-mouthed.  
  
"Alex?"  
  
My sister was still on the phone.  
  
"Nora, what did you mean by 'nothing' when you told me about Dad's response to your fight with him?" I quietly asked.  
  
"Well," she said, "he hasn't talked about you with me."  
  
"Oh," I said, "with you. Well, I'm glad he's not talking about me with someone, because he appears to be on CNN right now, on our front steps, talking about me with everyone."  
  
"Oh." She said. "They must be replaying the second press conference."  
  
"The second press conference? There was more than one?"  
  
"Um...yeah. He gave one yesterday afternoon which was really fast, and then one this morning that was more of an official one. The one yesterday was at his office, though, not at our house."  
  
"I can't believe he's doing this. I thought he wanted to keep things quiet."  
  
"Well, he did," she replied, "but then people found out, so now he's talking his way out of it."  
  
I groaned. Did he have to do this?  
  
"It's all one big political move, Alex. He's reshaping his televised mistake into a full-fledged campaign maneuver."  
  
"Televised 'mistake'? That's a nice way to put it, Nora."  
  
"Oh, come on," she said, "I don't think he did it on purpose. He was terrified someone was going to leak it. We've been getting threatening calls for a month now."  
  
"Oh come on, he's a politician; someone's always threatening him with something. One would think that by now he'd have learned to ignore it."  
  
"Don't be so hard on him." She was nearing tears now. "He's been under a lot of pressure what with the campaign and all, and I think he just cracked. Some of those Sunday news shows can get vicious. He was trying to maintain his credibility by preempting any rumors that would force him to pull a Bill Clinton."  
  
That was too much for me. How could she take his side? "I am not Monica Lewinsky. He is not the president. I am NOT some embarrassment he needs to hide from the public! I AM HIS SON, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!"  
  
I slammed the phone down into its receiver.  
  
.............  
  
I realize it has been quite awhile since I've updated...All I can say is I am Very, Very Sorry. 20 credits, 2 plays and orchestra is not a good idea for one semester--'nuff said. It's summer though, and so despite the fact that I'm working 3 jobs, I think I'll be slightly more productive. Jobs don't give grades, after all.  
  
Many thanks go to Risty, my lovely beta reader, for, well, beta-reading this chapter. Many thanks as well to those who have read and reviewed in the past. I really do appreciate feedback.  
  
And now for something completely different:  
  
I have a new story (well, newer than this one, anyway). It's an AU fic about Kitty and her life if she hadn't been picked up by the X-Men, although they definitely figure in there. It's headed in an interesting Lancitty direction. Check it out if you feel so inclined.  
  
And on yet another note, REGISTER TO VOTE (those of you who can)-if you don't vote, you can't complain, and isn't that what America is built on? Go to for more information. 


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